


The Other Side of the Coin

by Antarctica_or_bust



Series: A Matter of Perspective [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Battle Of Five Armies, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Kíli, Bilbo Is Awesome, Bittersweet, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Did I mention Kíli's filthy mouth?, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Fic Spans Years, Fíli as King, Gold Sickness, Hidden Depths, Hidden Talents, Hobbit Culture, Hobbiton, Homophobia, Kid Fic, Kili pov, Kíli has a filthy mouth, Laketown, M/M, Mirkwood, Missing Scene, Not Fitting In, Old Age, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Possessive Kíli, Post-Series, Relationship Sabotage, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Top Kíli, War is hell, Weddings, Young Frodo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 69,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kíli just wanted to go on an adventure, he never expected to find love as well.</p><p>(The companion piece to A Terrible Mistake, though it can be read on its own.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secrets

I grew up on the open road, raised beneath wood and trees and sky. We were always traveling in those early days and now I know it was a matter of survival, but at the time I just thought that it was fun. It seemed a grand adventure to roam from place to place, never knowing what might be over the next horizon or what the following day might bring.  
  
Indeed I was heartbroken when we finally settled in one town and every morning I would wake up with only Ered Luin to see. From then on I dreamed of the day that I could return to the wider world and my desire to escape only increased when my family decided it was time for me to become respectable.  
  
For now that we were building a new community, everything that I had always done was suddenly forbidden so I would not shame our family's reputation. I was supposed to speak properly and dress properly and only practice the skills that were “appropriate to an heir of Durin's line.”  
  
While I enjoyed forging and weapon-work as much as any dwarf, I was filled with an irrepressible curiosity about other crafts and I resented the idea that I could no longer learn every new thing which caught my eye. Indeed, my family had been grateful many times for my skill with both bow and needle out upon the road so I truly did not understand why everything had changed.  
  
However, the difference that most broke my heart was the change in my brother because Fíli went from being my best friend to being my self-appointed keeper. Although he was only five years older than me, he was very conscious of his position as our uncle's heir and the importance of our family's pride and name. But in the early days, Fíli still found time for joy and laughter and we would explore the world together whenever we could. It was only after we came to Ered Luin that my brother's sense of wonder disappeared beneath the crushing weight of his future duty and he passed that burden on to me.  
  
I could escape our elders' disapproving gazes as long as I performed my duties when they asked and I would often wander the markets to talk with the strangers from afar. Yet somehow Fíli was always there to break up my most interesting discussions and turn aside the friends whom my brother thought weren't good enough for me. Which was nearly all of them.  
  
Sometimes I thought about running away but despite the rules and regulations, my life was not all bad and I loved my family more than anything. So I would need a truly overwhelming reason to leave my kin behind, something far more important than being different from the rest. Thus I learned to compromise instead, to win the battles closest to my heart in exchange for some concessions and remind myself that my family was worth the cost.  
  
So I kept my bow but lost the baking, kept the woodworking but lost some friends and I took my rebellions where I could find them, such as the day I convinced everyone that my skill at archery meant that I had to shave my beard.  
  
The greater the elders' expectations became, the more I learned to hide the facts they could not face because I truly did not wish to cause them any pain. Therefore I never told them that I did not dream of treasure or of glory but only wanted to be content and loved for who I was. I learned to hide the knowledge that I did not actually care about our family's legacy and I preferred the open forest to caves of rock and stone.  
  
When I grew old enough for lovers, I lay with all who took my fancy and simply failed to mention the males or the odd adventurous human who passed my way. Though in truth I think my family guessed some of these secrets, it was easier for everyone to act as if I did not disappoint them and sometimes I wished that I truly was the son they wanted, the son I pretended I could be.  
  
Everyone was happier this way, everyone but me, and it was not their fault that I was a born with a wild soul instead of the standard dwarvish mind. Life was good enough and I meant my oaths when I swore to do my duty as a prince of Durin's Elder Line.  
  
So although I sometimes wondered if I would ever have the chance to live without the falsehood, I could not imagine leaving my family behind forever and the best I really hoped for was that this duty would someday let me wander free.  
  
Thus when our uncle came to us and asked for aid in reclaiming Erebor, of course I volunteered immediately. This was my family's oldest dream and my brother's greatest wish, so how could I refuse to help make it reality? If I was less interested in the treasure and the honor at our mission's end than the journey along the way, no one needed to know where my heart fell.  
  
I never imagined that my uncle's quest would change my life forever and take me to places of which I _-always-_ never dreamed.  
  
\---  
  
When my brother and I rode out to meet Thorin at the start of our journey, I was overjoyed to finally be traveling once more. Indeed I drove Fíli crazy with my hyperactive bouncing but while he was brooding on the seriousness of our quest, all I could think was that I was finally off on another adventure. A family-sanctioned, brother-approved adventure, which was something I might never see again.  
  
Yet for all my anticipation of the open road to come, when we entered the land known as the Shire I felt something in me shift. It was not just that it was beautiful, although it was, lush and green in a way that soothed my soul. I had not seen such fertile lands since we put down roots in Ered Luin for the mountains there supported no such verdant life as this.  
  
However, it was more than the prosperity that spoke to me, there was a joy within the earth beneath our ponies' feet.  I could feel it in my bones and when I breathed in deep, the air was free from the miasma of wronged despair that hung about my family's home. Fíli was too busy sneering at the hobbits' lack of battle prowess to notice the difference but I was entranced by the easy happiness and simple cares I saw.  I was entranced by what I felt.  
  
For the Shire called to me, called to the wounds and shadows on my heart. A siren's call that filled my soul with yearning and I finally understood how uncle felt when he spoke of Erebor, for a place like this could be my home.  
  
This is not to say that I was no longer excited to go on our journey, because I still loved the thought of traveling and my oath bound me to see our quest accomplished. Yet for the first time, I also realized that there were places in the world where I might actually belong and maybe there could be a home for me, if not here then somewhere else when our purpose was complete.  
  
Perhaps I would not be left haunting the halls beneath the Lonely Mountain when my duty was fulfilled, yearning for the sight of stars and wishing to be free. Or if that was too impossible a dream, at least I might return to the Shire from time to time and find solace in their peace.  
  
However, I kept this revelation to myself because I knew that Fíli would not understand it, my brother with his proper dwarvish dreams. We rode on this way through the rolling hills and quiet paths that led to our goal, he with contempt and me with envy at the land that we passed by. But for all my delight in the scenery, we had to arrive at our destination eventually and what a lovely place it turned out to be.  
  
Like all the homes we had passed, it was built into the hillside but this one was a step above the rest in size and positioned near the top in pride of place. From the rows of windows, I could tell that it stretched far beneath the ground, but there was also a magnificent garden off to the side and everything was neat and tidy and obviously well-loved.  
  
My brother and I were near the first of our companions to arrive and we dismounted to tie our ponies on the fence next to the two already there. Once they were secure, we walked up the steps to the green door on which a dwarvish rune glowed brightly and rang the bell.  
  
Shortly after, a rather disgruntled hobbit stood before our eyes.  
  
I had never believed in love at first sight and I still didn't really, but lust yes and the possibility of something more. For he looked nothing like any dwarf I had ever seen and the differences between us fascinated me now that I was seeing them up close: the smooth, beardless face, his fuzzy feet and those blonde curls which I just wanted to tangle in my hands.  
  
My brother and I introduced ourselves with a bow but I was so caught up in staring that I stumbled over my words. “You must be Mr. Boggins,” I said and made Fíli wince where he stood by my side. However, the hobbit didn't seem to care about my mistake because instead of correcting me, he just tried to turn us away into the night.  
  
The idea that our quest might be over before it had even begun was horrifying so I shoved the door back open and asked in desperation, “What? Has it been canceled?” _Not my one chance to see the world again!_ And when the hobbit stammered his denial, I smiled at him brightly in relief.  
  
He seemed flustered as we entered so I tried to put him at ease by complimenting his home and in fact, the house was rather masterful: warm and cozy and just about my size. Not that my words seemed to help, for Mr. Baggins only became more annoyed the longer that I spoke and when the others of our company arrived and started emptying his pantry, I thought that he might faint from aggravation. Still even when he was yelling, he made the cutest faces and surely he would not have had so much food if he were not expecting guests.  
  
 _Maybe I can convince him to follow me to some dark corner and take his mind off things,_ I wondered but before I had the chance to ask, I was distracted from my staring by the incredible feast laid out on the table. Though perhaps such a meal was the norm for Shirefolk because the hobbit didn't join us in eating, just stood in the doorway and looked horrified.  
  
To be fair it was raucous gathering and if you weren't used to us, twelve dwarves and a wizard could be a lot to take. So I made sure that Fíli and I started the group cleaning with a song and before long we had the dishes washed and the room back spic and span.  
  
The hobbit seemed impressed by our skill in spite of himself and some of his anger eased, but before we could straighten up any more, uncle finally arrived and there was naught but serious business to be had.  
  
It was ill news for our cause that none of our kin would aid us because while I understood their hesitancy, I knew that Thorin would try to kill Smaug anyway, even without an army at his back. So I hoped Gandalf might have some experience to offer but when this turned out to be a false assumption, our company quickly descended to squabbling and angry accusations were flung across the room.  
  
Finally uncle roared the group to silence and under his stern glare every objection seemed to have an answer, though I did wonder how much of that was simply denial of the truth. But soon Balin was handing Mr. Baggins our contract for his perusal and I was impressed to see him read it over carefully. _Smart and pretty,_ I thought with admiration, for I knew many who would have blithely signed away their lives without a second glance.  
  
However, the hobbit's incredulous, “Lacerations...evisceration... **incineration**?” made me worry that this fascinating person would decide to stay behind. So I shot Bofur a glare when he started describing Smaug in all his terrifying glory, but it was too late and Mr. Baggins passed out on the floor.  
  
Most of the others snorted dismissively at this and though I could see the disdain in uncle's eyes, I stood up from my seat to carry the hobbit to a chair. _Poor thing. Gandalf obviously hasn't told him anything. It's no wonder he was so confused when we arrived and we've hardly been the most polite of guests. I guess I can't blame him if he chooses not to join us on our mad journey, not with a home as nice as this._  
  
Yet as I stared down at Mr. Baggins' face, I hoped that he would decide to help us try and kill a dragon anyway, against all common sense or reason. There was something interesting about him beyond my deep attraction and I wanted the time to discover what secrets lay beneath his soft facade. But I also did not think it likely that the hobbit would join our company, not unless uncle Thorin put out some actual effort and indeed when he woke, Mr. Baggins refused us all.  
  
So it was with disappointment that I joined the others by the fire to sing the song of our people's endless sorrow and the broken land that was our home.  
  
“Far over the misty mountains cold  
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day  
To find our long-forgotten gold  
  
The pines were roaring on the height  
The winds were moaning in the night  
The fire was red, it flaming spread  
The trees like torches blazed with light...”  
  
As always the music filled my heart with yearning, not for the mountain lost so long ago or grand halls filled with gleaming treasure, but simply for a place to call my own. When the last verse trailed off into silence, the wizard informed us of our lodgings for the night and gradually our company began to trickle out the door.  
  
I stayed until the last, drafting Fíli to straighten the rooms and clean up our messes for it seemed terribly impolite to leave such a lovely house in disarray. Considering the fine hospitality that we'd received and the fact that uncle would leave no payment for Mr. Baggins' trouble, it was the least that I could do. _And he's definitely not going to change his mind if we make him clean all this up._  
  
Yet even after we had finished and Fíli was waiting impatiently outside, I simply could not bring myself to leave. It was such a warm house, a warmth that spoke clearly of real love and family and I just wanted to soak the feeling deep into my bones.  
  
So I was leaning on the doorjamb and watching the hobbit sleep, wondering if I dared to discover whether his lips were as soft as they looked, when he stirred and opened up his eyes. He startled at the sight of me and I spoke quickly to calm him down.  
  
“Hey, easy, it's all right. It's just me Mr. Baggins. The others have all left already and my brother and I cleaned up as much as we could.” I said, smiling gently as he relaxed.  
  
“Oh, you didn't have to do that. And you can call me Bilbo, you know.”  
  
“Of course I did. We may not have know that you weren't expecting us but this hardly excuses the way we just barged in and turned your house upside down. So I couldn't leave it like that, especially not when it's such a beautiful place.”  
  
He must have heard the honest admiration in my voice for Bilbo's face brightened as he replied, “Well thank you then, I do appreciate it. Bag End has been in the family for generations but while it's well-built, it is a little large for just one person and the cleaning can be a pain. It is Kíli, isn't it?”  
  
“Yep, that's me. Kíli son of Jilí at your service.” I said with a short bow before moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “Are you sure you'll be all right? We kind of cleaned you out.”  
  
“It's fine, really. I may not have been expecting you but it was kind of nice to have the company, once I stopped worrying about the chaos anyway. Bag End gets a little lonely sometimes now that it's only me.”  
  
At these words I felt a spark of hope and I leaned forward intently to argue our case. “You should come with us then. See the world and meet new people. This house will still be here when you return and you never know, you might find someone to bring back with you when you come.”  
  
“If I return.” He replied, shaking his head. “I always wanted to see the world when I was younger but I'm hardly a hardened warrior and I know I lack the skills needed for your quest. It's the coming back part that worries me and I'm too much of a coward to take the risk.”  
  
I scooted closer, laying my hand lightly on his arm. “Of course you'd return. I wouldn't let anything happen to you, not if I could help it, and even if uncle doesn't like you, he would never let you die. And I don't think you're a coward, you're just untested like me. You haven't had the chance to be brave yet and I think you would surprise yourself when the time for courage came.”  
  
While I knew that it was selfish of me to try and convince him to come along on such a dangerous journey, I was not lying in my words and if he was happy here then nothing I said would change his mind. I liked him and I wanted to know him better and if he were truly lonely then perhaps we could help each other find what was missing in our lives, for I had a strange feeling that this might be my only chance.  
  
Bilbo laughed in self-deprecation even as he gave me a shy smile which set my heart to pounding. “I think you have too high an opinion of me, but I promise I'll consider it.”  
  
“Good,” I said, smiling brightly at him and I felt victorious when his cheeks pinked beneath my gaze. “Balin left the contract on the table and I do hope you change your mind. See you tomorrow then.” I added hopefully, unable to resist tucking a wayward curl behind the hobbit's ear and my grin grew wider when his flush deepened.  
  
By now I knew that Fíli would be looking for me so I said farewell and opened the door beneath my brother's impatient knock. He looked at me oddly for a moment and I realized that I still had a fond smile plastered across my face but I was in such a fantastic mood from the conversation that I simply did not care.  
  
This cheerful mood lasted through the night and into the next morning so when Nori started taking bets on whether or not Bilbo would show up, I placed my money firmly on the hobbit's side. Even though he had not promised he would come, somehow I was certain that we would see him running down the path and when Fíli asked, I just said I had a feeling for it was true. It was only hours later when uncle finally convinced the wizard that we must leave without our burglar that I felt my hopes begin to die.  
  
 _I guess he decided to stay at home after all,_ I thought sadly to myself. While I could hardly blame him for his choice, I mourned the chance to make a friend that might have understood me and now I would never know if he could have been more.  
  
As we rode away, I could not even bring myself to continue smiling for I knew that I would probably never see this place again. Even if we somehow succeeded in our mission and I managed to return to the Shire someday, there would be no one here to welcome me. I doubted that Bilbo would remember one young dwarf above the rest and while I had hardly known him, I felt lonely at the thought.  
  
But then there was a voice crying for us to wait and I turned in my saddle to see the hobbit sprinting toward us, contract trailing in the wind.  
  
“I signed it,” He said proudly when he finally caught up and soon Balin was welcoming Bilbo into my uncle's company before we lifted him atop a pony of his own. As I watched him ride in front of me, staring at Myrtle as though she were a terrible monster, I could not keep the beaming smile off my face. I knew that Fíli thought my joy was due to the money that I'd won but all I was really thinking was that I would have my chance after all.  
  
\---  
  
Over the next few days we traveled onward through the Shire and initially I joined in when my brother and the rest teased the hobbit about his fears. Such jokes were common practice to break in the new member of a company and besides, Bilbo made the most adorable expressions when annoyed.  
  
However as uncle's scorn continued unabated, the others kept their distance long past the normal time and I stopped laughing when Fíli's jokes gained a crueler edge. When that friendly light which so enticed me began to disappear from the hobbit's eyes, I decided that I would not allow it anymore. Since the rest of the company was apparently never going to come to their senses, I would become Bilbo's friend without their support and take their disapproval on myself instead.  
  
 _Whatever happened to just wanting loyalty, honor and a willing heart, uncle?_ I thought angrily as I comforted the hobbit after another of Thorin's contemptuous tirades and showed him how to saddle his pony right. _Bilbo didn't grow up on the road like me and Fíli so it's hardly fair to judge him on things he wasn't taught. It'd be like hobbits expecting us to farm._  
  
In fact, he was a fast learner and eagerly soaked up everything I showed him so I could not understand why everyone insisted on treating him like scum. _Probably more rules about propriety but our station shouldn't justify being awful, even if he's not a dwarf. Whatever, it's their loss._  
  
And indeed it was because the more I found out about Bilbo, the more I liked him, because what he lacked in experience, he made up by being smart and stubborn with a wry sense of humor and an interest in everything he saw.  
  
As our company traveled onward, I told him stories of my childhood in Ered Luin and out upon the road while the hobbit talked of living in the Shire and we soon discovered that we were kindred souls at heart. We were both dreamers who had never quite fit in with the rest of our people, both lonely and in need of a good friend.  
  
Though I soon decided that friendship was not enough because my attraction only grew with everything I learned and some nights it was all I could do to keep my hands to myself. My feelings for him were already stronger than any infatuation I'd ever had before and I knew I needed to find out where he stood before my pining drove me mad.  
  
However, I was afraid to ask him outright in case he agreed with the more conservative members of my race or those kingdoms of men where one could be executed for desires such as mine. So I resigned myself to pining until I could figure out a plan and then Bilbo went and made the whole thing moot.  
  
The hobbit was in the middle of another story about his wild younger days when he casually mentioned crashing his cousin's wedding, a wedding between two male hobbits and yet he didn't bat an eye. “Males can marry each other?” I asked in surprise because that was more than I had ever dared to hope.  
  
“Well yes, of course.” If anything Bilbo seemed confused by my outburst and he looked at me with concern as I gaped at him in shock. “I mean... I read that some men forbid it but the elves don't care and neither do we. It's not like we have a population problem and love is love, isn't it? Do dwarves not... you know?”  
  
I gathered my thoughts, trying to find a way to explain the most common position among my people without making him think we all agreed. “No, it happens. But a lot of dwarves really don't approve of it at all, especially the older ones. I think there used to be actual laws against it but there's so many more males than females these days that most people turn a blind eye as long as you're discreet. Which is good for me, I guess.”  
  
That last slipped out by accident and I watched uncertainly for his reaction in case he turned out to be more like my family after all. However, Bilbo didn't even react to my confession, just smiled at me as he replied.  
  
“I've never thought about that before since it's not an issue in the Shire but it seems that I'm lucky to be a hobbit. When I finally fall in love no one will blink twice and I can always name one of my many relatives as heir.”  
  
He went on with his story after that but I was rather distracted by the euphoric delight welling up within me at his words. _That sounded like he meant.... Mahal is smiling down on me today._  
  
\---  
  
Though our increasing closeness did not go unnoticed by the rest of the company, I believed that I had managed to hide my desire for the moment and this is how I wanted it. While I knew that some of the others had bedded males themselves, and a few had even bedded me, this did not mean that they would support my choices if it came down to a fight.  
  
As for my family, I was pretty sure my brother had to know but uncle and Fíli had been in denial of my preferences since I was old enough to have any, and it wasn't worth the risk of breaking through that wall. The two of them sent me enough disapproving glances just for being Bilbo's friend so I was actually slightly afraid of what they might do to him if they ever found out.  
  
While I planned to court the hobbit anyway, it would have to be in secret, at least until he proved himself worthy in their eyes. I was not very happy about this decision because I'd always resented the need to hide half my paramours, and yet the night our company made camp next to an abandoned farmhouse, Fíli proved that it was right.  
  
Uncle had set the two of us to guard the ponies, but after we had tied them up my brother took me aside and proceeded to give me one of the most self-important lectures of my life. The more he talked the more I could not believe my ears for while I had known that Fíli believed in the importance of our house, I did not realize that he had become such a pompous bastard. Not only did he think that I was only using Bilbo's friendship to increase his loyalty but my brother dared to say that I should leave the task to the commoners, as if Ori were worth any less than me.  
  
After listening to him go on and on insulting my friends in this manner, I could not take it anymore and I burst out with, “What makes dwarves so much better anyway? Or royalty, considering what a dick you are?”  
  
Although this made me feel better for a moment, it might have been a mistake because it also caused Fíli to lose his temper. My brother always was a vicious fighter and of course he went straight for the jugular, bringing up all the ways in which I was a disappoint in his eyes. So I retorted as only a younger sibling could and we might have come to blows if the shriek of our ponies hadn't stopped us dead.  
  
There was something out there, something large, and the threat of danger ended our argument as if it had never been. While I would not truly forget his words, I knew I would forgive him just like always and we had far more important things to think about.  
  
When we snuck over to the source of the noise, we found the trees uprooted and two ponies gone and I winced because this was not going to help bring Thorin over to my cause. Fíli was in a similar state of shock, though probably more worried about uncle's disappointment, and my brother and I were trying to think of a plan when Bilbo arrived with dinner in his hands.  
  
After we had explained the situation and discovered that three mountain trolls had stolen our ponies, my brother suggested that the hobbit sneak over there to steal them back. While I was suspicious of his motives, Fíli's suggestion was actually sound for Bilbo moved more quietly than any dwarf and this was an area in which he might excel. So I urged him toward the fire, whispering that this was his chance to show his skills and win my uncle's favor and promising that I wouldn't let anything happen to him if it all went wrong.  
  
My brother gave me a strange look when we moved back to let the hobbit work but I assumed he was wondering why I had agreed and I brushed off his glance. I was far more interested in watching Bilbo and at first it seemed he would be successful because he was as quick and quiet on his feet as Gandalf had promised.  
  
It was only when he began to fumble with the ropes and I realized he did not have a blade that I became sure that this would not end well. _He should have said something, it's not like we don't have knives to spare. Or I should have noticed. Some friend I am._  
  
I turned to my brother and ordered him to bring the others, armed and swiftly, growling him into motion when he just stared at me aghast. Surely Fíli did not think we should simply let our burglar die, and I was still fuming as I watched this disaster unfold before my eyes. For a moment it seemed that Bilbo might get away but then one of the trolls grabbed him and I was warmed by his attempt to hide the presence of our company even as I feared greatly for his life.  
  
 _See, I told you that you would be brave when you had the chance,_ I thought in admiration before jumping out to take my hobbit back. “Drop him!” I demanded, sword drawn and ready and I could see the relief on Bilbo's face that I was there.  
  
Then the trolls threw him to me and I had barely a moment to revel in the feel of him in my arms before the others were charging out of the trees to engage our enemy in battle. I nudged the hobbit gently to the side, telling him to free our ponies before picking up my sword and joining the fight. From then on it was a blur of strikes and dodging and I was relieved to find that despite our differences, Fíli and I could still move as one.  
  
But then I looked up and Bilbo had been captured once again and it was only uncle's tight grip on my shoulder which kept me from running to his aid. To be honest, I knew that it was foolish and I could not take the trolls down before they killed my hobbit, but that did not mean I was happy when Thorin surrendered to save his life.  
  
So we found ourselves tied up in sacks, watching helplessly as our companions were slowly roasted over the fire and then Bilbo spoke up. At first I thought that he was trying to buy us time until Gandalf returned, but then he started giving our foes advice on how to cook us better and I felt betrayed instead.  
  
 _I would have died for you,_ I thought furiously as I fought against my bonds. _I trusted you!_  
  
This treachery burned within me more than any I had ever known and even in my pain, I had to acknowledge that I had fallen for him hard. I could have loved the hobbit and I was so caught up in my grief over what might have been that it took uncle kicking me to make me see the truth. Bilbo was just buying us time after all and I admit I may have gone slightly overboard in my relief. However, it all worked out in the end because Gandalf saved us with the dawn and soon we were free dwarves again.  
  
Once untied I couldn't help but fuss over Bilbo, checking to see that he had not been injured and thanking him for saving all our lives. Even if Thorin wasn't going to acknowledge his cleverness, I would and hopefully this would make some of the others see him in a better light.  
  
Fíli and I left to gather up our ponies while the rest of the company explored the trolls' cavern and when we had finished, we returned to find Gandalf talking with another wizard, one even stranger than him. Radagast brought ill tidings by the shadows in his eyes, but before I could ask what was going on there were more immediate threats for us to face.  
  
Wargs attacked us from the trees, perhaps the same ones we had heard out on the road, and although the company killed two of them, we knew that the full pack would not be far behind. So we ran.  
  
We ran on foot, our ponies having bolted once again in panicked flight, and I spared a thought to their safety as we sprinted for our lives. Even with the brown wizard drawing off our enemies, it was difficult to stay ahead of the orc pack and our group had to take a circuitous route to remain out of sight.  
  
Despite our best efforts, one of the wargs eventually caught our scent and while I managed to stop its rider from sounding the alarm, my arrows failed to bring him down. The noise of our fight alerted the rest of the pack and soon we were surrounded, the orcs stalking us like cornered prey. Uncle yelled at me to shoot them and I killed as many as I could but we were seriously outnumbered and if it came down to a fight, I was not sure that we would win.  
  
Just as I was losing hope, Gandalf appeared again, calling for us to hide within the stone and the others ran for cover while I guarded their retreat. Uncle and I were the last two to jump down into the crevice and I was relieved when I looked across our group to see that my hobbit and my brother were all right.  
  
Only a short moment after I leaped to safety, there was the sound of horns from up above and screams rang out as horses ran the orc pack down. One of the creatures tumbled through the opening with an arrow in its neck and from the style, I could see that our rescuers were elves. I had known that we were nearing Rivendell but since uncle refused to seek their aid, I had put it from my mind and truthfully our leader seemed rather annoyed now that we were in their debt.  
  
Indeed, when we discovered that Gandalf's crevice led directly to the hidden valley, Thorin looked like he might die of anger and the rest of the company muttered dark imprecations. Yet what else could we do but ask their hospitality, road weary and supply-less as we were?  
  
I hadn't yet decided what to think because while I knew the sort of irrational hatred that ran in my family, this did not always mean their fears were wrong. Besides Bilbo's awestruck glances were annoying me because he'd never looked at us dwarves like that and I wondered if he'd be so appreciative when he saw our ancestral home.  
  
However, the elf that greeted us seemed nice enough if a bit disdainful and too impolite to speak in the common tongue. The wizard did not seem happy about whatever he was saying in that lilting foreign speech but before we could ask what was going on, Lord Elrond and his lancers thundered down the path.  
  
I grabbed Bilbo and pulled him back within the company as the elvish horses circled round and for a moment I feared that our companies might come to blows.  However, thankfully Elrond ignored uncle Thorin's rudeness to offer his hospitality and I shot my brother a relieved smile as I steered my hobbit into the elf lord's house.  
  
\---  
  
Our stay in Rivendell was a peaceful and welcome change from the long and dangerous days out on the road, and my uncle's hatred of the elves began to seem unfounded after all. Though I might have liked them better if Bilbo's admiration had waned at all while we were there.  
  
But it did not, and the more my hobbit went on about how wonderful the elves were, the more I seethed inside and increased my efforts to make him notice me. Despite my jealousy, these attempts seemed to be working, for although both of us were often called away to council, while we were together his smiles were fond and his hands would linger. So I had high hopes that when our company left the hidden valley and we could finally be alone, my advances would not be rejected.  
  
Unfortunately, that solitude was hard to find, because once we were on the trail again my brother decided to make a nuisance of himself. Suddenly every time I turned around, Fíli was always underfoot and Bilbo and I could barely start a conversation before my brother was between us.  
  
At first I thought that his timing was simply incredibly poor since he'd shown no sign of recognizing how I felt and probably preferred to live in denial anyway. However, as the days passed and Fíli showed no signs of easing up on his odd attention, I began to be reminded of other times when my dear brother had acted just like this.  
  
It was a habit of his when we were younger to become my shadow whenever I made a friend outside our clan or class, a shadow who had conveniently driven them away. But I had hoped he was over such ridiculous behavior, though I'm not sure why I thought this would be true considering the rant about our family’s pride that I had received just a short time before. But maybe, once Bilbo had proved himself and I could tell them all that he was my one and only, maybe then Fíli would learn to accept the choices I had made. Surely my brother wanted me to be happy more than he cared about our name?  
  
However until that moment came, I knew there was no point in fighting Fíli over this directly, for a confrontation would only make him dig in his heels. I had to come at the problem sideways instead, so I stopped arguing with Fíli about his intrusions and waited for him to drop his guard. I had learned over the years that as long as I presented the appearance of compliance, my family would rarely look beneath the surface and my brother was rarely more observant than the rest.  
  
He had been once when we were children, back then he had known me well. Until our mother and uncle taught him how they thought the world should be and he stopped seeing what was there.  
  
Thus when I acted as if I didn't mind my brother's interference, he assumed that my friendship with Bilbo must be waning because of course someone like that could be so easily forgotten. This assumption annoyed me greatly but Fíli's growing inattention allowed me to sneak off and promise my hobbit that I still held him dear. Thankfully he was understanding about the situation, even if he still thought that it was only our friendship that my brother tried to kill.  
  
While I was prepared to wait forever for the opportunity to make my feelings clear, Mahal smiled upon me and my chance came sooner than I'd hoped. The longer we traveled up into the mountains, the fouler the weather became and we had been trudging through a rainstorm of epic proportions for several hours when the peaks around us came alive.  
  
Stone giants they were and at first I had to simply stop and stare in awe while they rose from the crags as if the very earth itself was climbing to its feet. How could I not want to travel when the world held marvels such as this? How could I be happy locked up in a mountain when there were still so many natural wonders to explore?  
  
Though I admit my admiration was dampened slightly when the path beneath our feet began to split as well, one more giant rising up to battle in the storm. Uncle was ahead of me and we jumped quickly to safety but I watched in horror as Fíli was torn from my grasping hands.  
  
I cried his name desperately when he disappeared into the storm along with half our company, for while he pissed me off, he was still my brother and I would be devastated if he died. He had been there with me my entire life and I did not know how I could survive without him at my side. Not without support so the moment I realized Bilbo was also missing, panic filled my heart. To lose them both was unthinkable and that my hobbit might never know how much I loved him was more than I could bear.  
  
But all I could do was watch helplessly as the giant fell against the mountain, a strangled cry leaving my throat at the loss of nearly all that I held dear. We rushed forward, expecting to see them crushed or worse and my knees buckled with relief to find them whole and hale.  
  
Except Bilbo was not there amongst the others and it seemed a cruel joke when I saw him hanging from the very edge of the cliff itself. I was too far back to aid him and the others could not reach and I had to look away in anguish for I could not watch my hobbit die. So when uncle jumped down and pushed Bilbo back onto the path, my joy was only slightly dampened by the vicious lecture he aimed at the life he saved.  
  
 _Too close. That was too close,_ I thought, sagging against the side of the mountain in relief and while I saw the hurt on my hobbit's face as Thorin's words struck their mark, I was just glad that he was breathing. However, this event also drove home the fact that our quest was truly dangerous and I resolved to seize the moment now.  
  
After our hard day's journey and near brush with death, everyone was exhausted so when I volunteered to take the first watch not even Fíli questioned my sudden charity. The other dwarves all dropped off quickly but I could see Bilbo laying awake and I called him over softly to my side.  
  
“Don't think too much about uncle's words.” I said, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and trying to ease the depression in his eyes. “It is he who is lacking if he cannot see your worth.”  
  
“I don't know,” he replied and my heart ached at the doubt within his voice “Maybe I should just go back to Hobbiton after all. I don't think I'm suited for a quest like this.”  
  
“No!” My cry ripped out of me, sharp and anguished and Bilbo looked up at me with startled eyes. “No, please don't go. You've been adapting well and I know that few of the others have been treating you as they should but surely the journey hasn't been all bad?”  
  
I cupped his cheek in my palms and stared down at him pleadingly, for while I wanted to tell him how I felt, I couldn't lay that on him if he truly wished to leave. It would not be fair if he only stayed because I loved him and I cared too much to make him choose such risk for me.  
  
So I waited anxiously for the hobbit's response as he thought it over carefully. “Well Rivendell was amazing, I've always wanted to see real elves...” _Seriously, the fucking elves. That can't be it._  
  
Those words almost had me ready to give up then and there, until Bilbo glanced up with one of the sweetest smiles I had ever seen. “I've enjoyed the traveling as well, if not the parts that tried to kill me. But I think the best part has been you. I've never had a... a friend like you before and I think I would always regret it if I didn't see this journey through. So I guess I'm staying after all.”  
  
I hugged the hobbit tightly, hope rekindled in my heart and at the firm touch of his body, I could no longer resist the desire that I'd been keeping locked inside. So I took Bilbo's face between my hands and kissed him passionately, pouring all my love against his lips.  
  
The hobbit's mouth was as soft as I had imagined and it was a long moment before I managed to pull myself away. Only when I opened my eyes again did anxiety strike me and I bit my lip uncertainly as I waited to see what he would do.  
  
“Kíli? You really feel that way, for me?” But I needn't have worried for there was only surprised pleasure in Bilbo's voice and the glance he gave me mirrored the joy I felt within.  
  
“Of course,” I told him, taking his hands in mine. “You're amazing and I've felt this way for awhile now. I just haven't had the chance to tell you before this.”  
  
“I like you too. You're the best friend I've ever had and I think we could be more.” Bilbo replied, stroking my cheek gently and for a moment I was the happiest I had ever been. “But what about the others? You said most dwarves don't approve of males together and I don't want you to lose your friends or family over me.”  
  
This was a harsh reminder of the reality of our situation and my joy dimmed at the knowledge that he was worth more than I could give.  
  
“I want to shout my feelings from the mountaintops so that everyone can hear, only I don't know how the others would react. Some of them are just like us but uncle is conservative and I doubt they would support me in the face of his disapproval. However, if that was all I would tell them anyway because I'm used to his disappointment and if the rest abandoned us then they'd be no friends of mine.  
  
But if Thorin decided to blame you instead, he might try to hurt you and I cannot gamble your life upon those odds. So we would have to remain hidden until I could be sure that no harm would befall you and I don't know how long that might take. I'm sorry, you deserve better than to be my dirty secret and I'll understand if it's too much too ask.”  
  
Yet Bilbo just kept smiling and patted me gently on the arm. “You are worth more than that as well and while your uncle is admittedly terrifying, I want to be with you anyway. Besides it might be fun to steal kisses in the dark and there's no point in causing a fuss until we know if we'll stay together.”  
  
My feelings were mixed at this pronouncement but eventually joy won out. While I was disappointed to know that his love might not be as strong as mine, my hobbit had agreed to be with me and this was enough for now. Anything more would come with time and I was his for life.  
  
So I leaned down and kissed Bilbo as a pledge to our future and when he melted into me, I could not resist deepening the kiss. I lost myself in the warmth of my hobbit's mouth and the slide of skin on skin and I do not know how much time passed before I caught a flash of blue from the corner of my eye. It was Bilbo's blade, shining fiercely in the dark and at the sight all thoughts of romance fled.  
  
“Uncle,” I shouted in warning, lunging for my gear and he was up in an instant at my call. Thorin woke the others to face whatever danger neared our camp but they had barely staggered to their feet before the entire cavern split in two. The company spilled into the spreading gap and I could see jeering goblin faces down below, an enemy that would not stand and fight.  
  
So I could do nothing but hold my hobbit tightly as the ground disappeared beneath our feet and we tumbled down into the russet gloom.  
  



	2. Sabotage

We fell quickly, the company hurtling deep into the heart of the Misty Mountains while goblins snarled at us from the walls. Even as I cursed our stupidity for falling into such a trap, I had to admire the design which funneled us together to land heavily within a wooden enclosure, bruised and battered but alive. It was obviously built to capture instead of kill and moments after the last of us hit the ground, the creatures swarmed us, chittering mockingly to each other in their savage language as they pulled us to our feet.  
  
When the goblins shoved me forward, clawed hands locked tight around my arms, I lost my grip on Bilbo and though I looked back immediately I couldn't see my hobbit anywhere. _Don't panic,_ I told myself firmly, fighting the urge to shout his name. _He's probably just behind one of the others and if he has managed to escape you do not want to draw attention his loss._ So I gritted my teeth and endured the shoving, waiting for my uncle to call our company to arms.  
  
However, my self-control was sorely tested moments later when the creatures dragged us in front of the grotesque monster who they called king and at his order, stripped us of our gear. This I did fight for what little good it did me and I felt the first stirrings of alarm with each weapon that clattered to the ground.  
  
Once we were unarmed, the Goblin King began his monologue but I was far too busy looking for my hobbit to listen to the words. _This is unacceptable,_ I thought viciously as I glared at the goblins who held us captive, using fury to hold back the fear. _I've barely begun courting my hobbit and no filthy monsters are going to keep me from his arms._  
  
Given the way Fíli was also vibrating with rage at my side, our captor was saying nothing kind but only the mention of Azog the Defiler tore me from my thoughts. I had been raised on the story of how the pale orc had perished, his hands stained with the blood of my people and my kin, so if he still lived it would be an enormous blow against the honor of our clan. Indeed the idea alone threatened to shatter my uncle's pride and it would be the duty of all Durins to destroy our old enemy before he made good on his vow.  
  
While I was currently annoyed with my brother, I did not want him or Thorin to die and if Azog were running free upon the earth every member of our company would be in grave danger regardless of the bloodline in their veins. However, there was nothing we could do at the moment, captured and restrained as we were, and as much as I hated to be helpless our best chance was to delay until the wizard arrived. Thankfully the goblins wanted to have some fun before they killed us and every moment that they wasted was one more chance we might survive, even if I could have done without the singing.  
  
Yet I still hadn't managed to catch sight of my hobbit and the worry was making it increasingly hard to stay my hand. I wanted to attack the creatures, to fight, to do **something** and it was almost a relief when one of the creatures discovered Orcrist and our captors went mad. A short-lived relief since the Goblin King ordered his minions to take my uncle's head and no matter how hard we struggled, all our company could do was watch as the blade descended swiftly toward Thorin's neck.  
  
I screamed his name desperately though I could not hear my voice over the roaring in my ears and then a wave of pressure slammed into my side. It swept through the cavern and knocked us off our feet and as I fell I turned to see the wizard standing there, sword and staff in hand.  
  
When I landed, I landed hard and for a moment all I could do was gasp for breath, trying desperately to fill my lungs. But then Gandalf called for us to fight and Fíli was pulling me to my feet while he threw my bow across my back and there was no time to worry about anything but our survival, even thoughts of Bilbo shoved aside. There was no time for anything but instinct as we ran and fought for our lives through the twisted maze that stood between us and our goal.  
  
With every goblin I cut down, it seemed like three more took its place and yet Mahal must have blessed us for none of our company received more than a scratch, even when I used a ladder as a shield. But for all our luck and skill we were still vastly outnumbered and eventually our race to freedom staggered to a halt as they surrounded us upon a fragile wooden bridge. There was nowhere for us to go, a snarling mass of claws and teeth in every direction where there was not open air and then their leader rose up like a demon from the pit.  
  
The Goblin King taunted us with our helplessness, a sneer upon his face, and Fíli growled beside me as my hands tightened on the hilt of my sword. Yet before we could attack, the wizard stepped forward and I had to grin at the monster's consternation when Gandalf struck him down. Until the bridge beneath us shuddered and we were falling once again.  
  
\---  
  
 _Fuuuuuuucccck!_ Was my only real thought as we plummeted down into the abyss but beneath the terror there was a strong seam of annoyance for all this falling was getting rather old. The earth was supposed to stay firm beneath my feet and while I had wanted an adventure, dying from impact really wasn't what I had in mind.  
  
But somehow I survived another landing, squashed though I might be and I could hear the others groaning in the wreckage so I knew they lived as well. I was rather hoping that this would be the end of it but then Bofur had to go and dare the fates and I remembered that Mahal often had a twisted sense of humor.  
  
So we fled, dragging our friends from the remnants of the bridge and sprinting towards daylight, because only that could save us from the hordes that chased us now. For awhile I honestly wasn't sure if we would make it since dwarves were not built for sprinting and if my lungs were burning, how must the elders feel? But somehow we did and I thought the sun might be the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen.  
  
However, my relief dimmed instantly when we took count and discovered that Bilbo was not there.  
  
Even though I knew it might rekindle Fíli's suspicions, I couldn't stop myself from looking around frantically in search of my hobbit and when Nori said that he had seen him slip away, I wasn't sure whether to be worried or consoled. I was glad to know that Bilbo had escaped the goblins' clutches but anything could have happened to him on his own within the mountain; he could be lost or injured or even dying and it seemed like I was the only one who cared.  
  
Indeed it was all I could do not to growl at Thorin when he claimed my hobbit must have fled like a coward and my hands tightened into clenched fists by my side. _He promised me he wasn't leaving and I believe him. Bilbo wouldn't have abandoned us no matter what you think, uncle, and he only considered it because of you._  
  
Yet everyone else was nodding their agreement and at the smug satisfaction on Fíli's face, I had to grit my teeth in order to keep from punching my brother then and there. I knew he didn't like Bilbo and thought him unworthy of my friendship, but that was different than not caring if he died.  
  
However, before I could work myself into any more of a fury, my hobbit strolled out from behind a tree and I was overwhelmed with relief instead. _Alive. He's alive,_ I thought, wanting to walk over there and hug him, pull him aside and give him the kind of welcome he deserved. But I was still constrained by secrecy and so I didn't move, simply returned his smile and hoped that he could hear the love which filled my voice.  
  
Of course uncle couldn't just leave him alone for once and had to question Bilbo's motives as though he were a criminal instead of a friend. But whatever my hobbit had gone through within the mountain seemed to give him courage and I had to hide a grin as he called Thorin on his shit.  
  
 _Valar but you're amazing,_ I thought as the company stared at him in shock and then my hobbit continued, talking of home and families and I thought that I had never loved him more. This was everything I had ever wanted and although Bilbo was talking to Thorin, he was looking straight at me. Our eyes met and when he promised to help us reclaim our homeland, it felt like a declaration at the warmth in his voice. _Even if that's not the home I really want._  
  
I didn't understand how uncle and Fíli could still look so suspicious, _can't they see the kindness in his heart,_ but before I could say anything in his defense, a warg howled from the mountain's peak. Panic chased the smile off my face for we had barely escaped the warg pack last time and there would be no elves or mad wizards to rescue us today.  
  
So I grabbed my hobbit and the company ran down the mountainside as fast as we could, the threat of our enemy lending wings to tired feet. Yet despite our head start, the beasts drew ever closer for we were already exhausted from our battle with the goblins and it wasn't long until our strength began to flag. I stumbled over a rock and nearly fell, losing my hold on Bilbo and I reached for him with a cry. But before I could catch his hand again, Fíli pushed me forward, nearly shoving me face first into a tree when Gandalf called for us to climb.  
  
Instinct took over then so I leaped up into the branches, before leaning down to pull my brother up as well. I had barely left the ground before the wargs were among us, and I flinched back as jaws closed just below my feet. _This is bad. This is really, really bad,_ I thought, near to despair for I did not see how we could escape this time. And then the situation grew even worse when Azog the Defiler stalked slowly into view, a feral smile spread across his face.  
  
The pale orc was as formidable as I had always imagined in my nightmares, a childhood terror now brought to life. He taunted us, teeth bared and weapon ready and when he shifted I could see the jagged spike that he had shoved into his arm. _What kind of creature would do that to himself? What kind of monster are we facing?_  
  
However, Fíli obviously did not share my fear for all I could see on his face was anger, anger and the thirst for vengeance that should have burned as a fire in my blood. Because we were up against our family's greatest enemy, the one who had sworn to destroy us without mercy and when Azog finished taunting my uncle, he ordered his wargs to kill us all.  
  
They charged forward and it was chaos, growls and screaming on both sides as the monsters slammed into our trees and tried bring us down. Moments later we were falling, hurtling once more toward the ground and when the dust finally settled, our entire company was perched precariously in one last pine, swaying out over a long, long drop.  
  
Then our wizard pulled another trick out of his sleeve and we chased the wargs away with fire, the beasts running back to their master with their tails between their legs. _Flaming pine-cones, huh? This adventure just keeps on getting better._ At least Bilbo was safe for now, as safe as any of us could really be. _Which isn't very safe at all, is it?_ I realized, feeling my heart sink when our last refuge began to fall.  
  
There was death in all directions, our only choice the manner and Thorin must have decided that he would rather die in battle bringing glory to his name. So while the rest of the company watched in fear-tinged awe, my uncle walked unflinching through the fire to face his ancient foe. None of us could deny his bravery as he charged forward, and none of us could believe it when he failed.  
  
Uncle had always seemed invincible, made of something stronger than flesh and bone, but the Defiler matched him strike for strike with ease before shattering his guard with a single vicious blow. Azog refused to even grant Thorin the honor of dying by his hands, ordering one of his minions to claim his head instead. I was watching this scene unfold with horror, frozen in shock at how swiftly my uncle had fallen when I saw movement from the corner of my eye.  
  
It was my hobbit running forward and although I could see that he was terrified, Bilbo did not hesitate before tackling the beast. He was beautiful then, marvelously brave and beautiful in his desperate fury and I knew that I could not let him die alone. So I climbed inch by inch back onto the mountain and then threw myself headlong into the fray, a feral smile spreading across my face. As I ran Dwalin and my brother appeared at my side and we raced toward the foul orcs who threatened those we loved, shouting our battle cry.  
  
We fought through the dust and flames, my sword slicing deep into flesh and scraping along bone as we tried to reach Thorin before another blow could fall. Fíli grinned beside me, sharp and bright, and I could feel some of that same exultation in my veins. But there were too many of them and no matter how I tried I could not seem to reach my goal, that pale monster and his mount remaining always out of reach. Bilbo was there, standing over my uncle's unmoving form and when he collided with the Defiler, I froze in horror until a snarling warg almost took my head. There was no way for me to help him, no way to come to his aid in time while blocked by a churning mass of teeth and claws  
  
However, before I could do more than draw breath to scream his name, great winged shadows descended from the sky. They were eagles, enormous eagles who fell upon our enemies like death incarnate, razor talons trailing blood. I saw one of the birds snatch Thorin from the rock and then I was spinning through the air to land next to Fíli on another and we left the burning mountainside behind.  
  
A wave of relief washed over me and it was all I could do to sheathe my sword with how much my hands were trembling. I had almost died today, we had all nearly died more times than I could count and it made me realize what really mattered in my life.  
  
 _It is time to end the secrets, whatever the cost may be, for how can I face my death knowing that my only legacy is lies? If I fall in battle I want to be remembered as I truly am, not as this mask I wear. I want to live for the things I actually believe in: wonder, love, and family, not just gold and glory and perhaps I can show the others the value of another way.  
  
Besides, now that Bilbo has saved Thorin's life, the others must have finally seen my hobbit's merit for his bravery shone like a thousand suns tonight and our family owes him a debt that we must pay. If uncle acknowledges this, none of the company will be able to harm Bilbo even if they want to and there will truly be no reason for secrecy anymore. Though I should probably tell my brother first since it will be far easier to convince uncle to grant us his blessing with Fíli standing at my side._  
  
Once I came to this decision, I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I realized that it was the weight of expectation. For once in my life I was going to fight for what I wanted and this time I thought that maybe I could win. Maybe I could follow the call of my heart without losing all else that I loved and even if I failed, this would be far better than living with the knowledge that I was too much of a coward to chase after my dreams.  
  
So I was hopeful, hopeful and exhausted and I found the smooth motion of our eagle rocking me to sleep. When we landed, I would talk to Fíli; I would try to tear the blinders from his eyes and show him the wonders that existed to be seen.  
  
\---  
  
I woke slowly, dragged from my slumber by my brother's insistent nudging and when I opened my eyes I saw that we had started to descend. So I gathered myself together as the great birds began to land on enormous stone spire in the valley before us, a spire which appeared to be carved into the head of a bear snarling at the rising dawn.  
  
Our eagle circled this rock and when we were close enough to jump, Fíli and I leaped lightly from its back, running toward our uncle who sprawled motionless upon the stone. Thorin looked so fragile, so deathly still and I had to support my brother's weight as his knees gave out.  
  
 _Uncle cannot be gone, he can't!_ I thought desperately, trying to see if he still breathed and I was terribly afraid that our miracle had arrived too late. But then Gandalf knelt by his side and though I could not hear the words our wizard muttered, my heart eased when Thorin finally stirred. He opened his eyes with a groan and Fíli and I rushed forward to help him as he tried to stand for we understood the warrior's need to reach his feet.  
  
However, once he was upright uncle shrugged off our support and stalked towards my hobbit, tearing into Bilbo without reason or sense. _How dare you?!_ I thought furiously while my uncle proved himself an ungrateful bastard, dredging up old doubts and insults against one who'd saved his life.  
  
If Thorin had been in reach I might have attacked him then and damn the consequences but before I could lose my temper completely, uncle changed his tune. He swept Bilbo into a hug, admitting just how wrong he had been and the rest of the company broke into a cheer. The hobbit blushed furiously as he downplayed his heroics, but I could see how pleased he was to finally be accepted and I thought that my heart might burst from love and pride.  
  
 _This is it then. Now there is truly nothing to stand in our way for uncle cannot harm him and how could anyone still disapprove of my choice when the Elder Line of Durin owes him such a debt. So tonight, after I talk to Fíli, we will announce it to everyone and I can finally show Bilbo all the love that he deserves. Tonight._  
  
When Thorin released my hobbit from his embrace, his eye was caught by something to the east. He walked over to the edge of the spire and stared out into the distance where a solitary mountain rose into the sky. He named it Erebor, he named it home, and the longing in my uncle's voice brought tears to my eyes.  
  
Whatever doubts I might have had about this quest, whatever resentment I had always carried toward the legacy that bound my dreams, I knew then that our journey would be worth it. If I could help put such warmth back in my family's eyes, if I could help them lay the ghosts to rest, I would do my duty gladly and with a smile in my heart. The Lonely Mountain might not be the home which I had dreamed of but it was theirs and perhaps they could find some measure of peace when they walked its halls again.  
  
 _And then maybe I can find a home and some peace of my own,_ I thought, smiling fondly at my hobbit where he stood by my uncle's side. For the first time since our trip began, Thorin and the rest of the company were treating Bilbo as an equal and I was sure that things would only get better from here. _A good omen indeed._  
  
However, omens or not we needed to keep moving and so our company started to descend the trail of stairs carved into the stone. Although no one other than uncle had been seriously wounded in the fight, neither were we whole and our injuries made the trip take far longer than it should.  
  
Yet we reached the valley floor without further mishap and there Gandalf informed us that he had a friend who lived a few days away. While I did wonder with some annoyance why the eagles could not have dropped us closer, this news still cheered my heart because our company sorely needed a safe place to regroup. Sturdy as he was, uncle's injuries would not benefit from sleeping on the ground and we had lost most of our supplies within the goblin cavern, leaving only our weapons and those items that we carried within our clothes themselves.  
  
Indeed having a goal that was within reach lightened everyone's spirits and even Thorin joined in when I began whistling a jaunty marching tune. Only Fíli was still obviously disturbed and I assumed his brooding was a reaction to how close our escape had been and the realization of how soon he might be king if everything went wrong. But one we stopped for the night my brother seemed to shake off his dark mood, helping me start a fire for dinner while Óin checked on our uncle's wounds.  
  
When our duties were finished, I dropped down next to Bilbo and threw an arm around his shoulders, reveling in the fact that I now could without receiving glares tenfold. “You were amazing last night,” I told him in a whisper, grinning at the way my hobbit blushed.  
  
“It wasn't... I was terrified out of my mind, really. I just couldn't let him die.”  
  
“That's what makes you brave, you know. If you weren't scared you'd be an idiot instead.” I replied with a grin. “And uncle's finally seen how great you are, so the journey should get easier.”  
  
“That will be a relief, though I still say I didn't do anything special. Are you... do you think that we should tell them?” My hobbit asked, lowering his voice so no one around could hear.  
  
However, before I could explain what our ordeal had made me realize, Fíli called my name.  
  
“Kíli, come gather wood,” My brother ordered, nodding toward the trees, so I whispered “Later,” and patted Bilbo goodbye on the shoulder before following Fíli away from camp. Considering that the fire had fuel enough for hours, I assumed he needed to discuss something important with me where the others could not hear and perhaps I could use this chance to talk to him as well.  
  
"Is something wrong?” I asked him when he finally stopped, worried by the dark look that had returned to his face. Perhaps our uncle was more injured than I had thought or he had seen a sign that our enemy was on our trail. However, I couldn't sense anything malevolent out in the dark and surely it would take the Defiler some time to track us down again. So I turned to Fíli with a question in my eyes.  
  
“Yes, brother, something is wrong. Kíli, you have to stop this." He said, staring at me with a disappointed frown.  
  
 _Huh?_ “Stop what?”  
  
“This **thing** with the halfling. You are not subtle as you think you are and you must end it before the others notice.” Fíli snarled and I recoiled at the anger in his voice.  
  
 _He already knows about us? But then why hasn't he said anything before, and why does he sound so unhappy? Shouldn't Bilbo's actions last night have changed his mind?_  
  
My first instinct was still denial, to run and hide from conflict as I had always done before, but I had promised myself that there would be no more secrets. So for once I refused to back down and compromise, for once I was going to fight for what I wanted and try to make my brother understand.  
  
“It's not a thing! And why should I stop? I know no one thought much of him at first but he's more than proved himself by now to all the ones who matter. Besides, Bilbo doesn't mind and there's no harm in anything we've done.”  
  
“Anything you've done?” His eyes widened as though with fear and he grabbed my arm tightly, fingers digging hard into my skin. “You have not bedded the hobbit?”  
  
“His name is **Bilbo!** ” I answered, pulling back angrily against my brother's hands. “And what is your problem? Why would it matter if I did?” _Not like I'm a virgin anymore._  
  
"He is not acceptable." Fíli declared with a growl. "And you have not answered the question."  
  
 _Yeah well neither have you brother, not really,_ I thought in frustration, unable to understand the extreme hostility I faced. But I knew that Fíli would be more willing to listen to my arguments if I appeared to cooperate with his demands and so I tried to keep the anger from my voice when I replied. “If you must know we haven't done anything yet. But I still don't understand what business it is of yours. I have lain with males before, as have half the members of our company, and it is common enough among the Shire folk- I made sure of that.”  
  
This conversation really wasn't making any sense _._ While I knew my brother had ridiculously high standards for whom he considered “worthy,” if Bilbo had not met them by now then no one ever would, and Fíli had never seemed to despise those who slept with males the way our parents did. Indeed he had tried to break up my “unsuitable friendships” whether I was fucking them or not and I had trouble believing that my brother could not tell the difference since I had not been very subtle when I was young.  
  
So I had assumed that his disapproval was just some sort of misguided protectiveness based on his obsession with our name and his crazy idea that our family was somehow better than the rest. But even if I didn't always agree with his reasoning, my brother had never hated someone for no reason at all and I knew that he wished me to be happy. So I had thought that when I finally gave away my heart to one who proved their merit, Fíli would accept them no matter whom they were. Yet as his face twisted with fury, I started to wonder just how wrong about him I might be.  
  
“You were younger then, some experimentation among youths is to be expected, but things are different now. A male dwarf would be bad enough, though perhaps acceptable for a commoner, but you are one of Durin's line and soon we will have regained our throne. You must be prepared to marry well and sire heirs for the sake of our people, not tie your heart to a fruitless union. For I know you brother and I know this is not some casual liaison that you will cast easily aside; you believe you are courting the hobbit as your one and only and that cannot be borne.  
  
And he is not even a dwarf. Think of the disgrace to our uncle once people find out, think of the disgrace to you. How can you expect to command the respect of our people with a hobbit at your side, brave though he may be? No they will scorn him and scorn you for falling so far outside our race. And how can you expect him to happy, separated from his people and living in the halls of Erebor?”  
  
His words shocked me to silence for a long moment as I finally realized just how deep the poison ran. No matter how many times my hobbit showed his bravery, no matter how many times he saved our lives, it would never be enough, because he was not a dwarf, he was not female and he did not fit into the life that my brother had planned out. Fíli truly hated Bilbo and he truly did not understand me; he could not see past the surface and he had never even tried.  
  
It was there in his eyes, in the way he talked to me as if I were a stranger and I knew that nothing I said would ever change his mind. He was as bad as our elders, maybe even worse and I would find no support for my cause from him. Perhaps my brother would someday realize that there was more to a person than their honor or their name, but I could see now that this would take a miracle and so I had a decision of my own to face.  
  
I could give in and let the lies become reality, give up that last spark of hope and become the Durin that my family wanted, the Durin who was miserable within his hollow soul. Or I could follow my heart. I could fight for what I wanted and fight for my own happiness as I never had before.  
  
The choice was not difficult at all.  
  
"Do not speak to me of Erebor! You have asked me to think of Bilbo and our family and I have, but now I must ask you to think of me. What use have I for a mountain or its treasure? Why would I, who was born upon the open road and raised under wood and sky, yearn for the cold embrace of stone above my head. I know you dream of the gold and glory of our grandfather, and when the time comes you will serve our people well, but that is not my dream. That has never been my dream.  
  
I dream of the chance to earn an honest living and of a home to return to when the long days are done. I dream of a simple life filled with love and laughter, and I will take it where I have found it no matter who approves. I am on this quest only for love of you and Thorin, not for any other reason, and I swear that I will see my duty through. But I will not sacrifice my heart to do it, not for all the gold in Erebor."  
  
Fíli stared at me with wide eyes as the truth of my desires came pouring out and yet I could see that my brother still didn't understand. So when he started to protest I cut him off before he could say a word.  
  
“No, brother. I will always love you but I cannot grant you this.” Though I could at least grant him secrecy to ease his peace of mind. He was still my brother and I felt I owed him that, if only to keep our company from tearing itself apart before our journey was done. But I would live this lie no longer than I must and once Erebor was reclaimed, all bets were off.  
  
“Do not worry though,” I told him. “I will protect our family's honor for your sake. Even if Bilbo accepts my troth none shall know before our quest is finished, and afterward I do not think that it will matter anymore.”  
  
Then I smiled at him sadly for I knew that these words were the beginning of the end and that in my mind I was already planning our goodbye. I would still try to change my brother's mind before our journey ended, hopeless though it may be, but I had seen the strength of Fíli's conviction and I feared that I would have to lose him after all. Because if I could not love Bilbo with my family's blessing then I would love him without it, even if I could never show my face at home again. But it could not truly be home without my hobbit at my side and so as long as my brother forced me to choose, there was only one decision I could make.  
  
So I turned and left him there, walking back to the fire where my heart still waited. I could answer Bilbo's question now.  
  
\---  
  
It was surprisingly easy to keep my promise to my brother, but this did nothing to ease the burning anger in my chest.  
  
Although I did not truly hate Fíli because I knew that his reaction was not entirely his fault, I was still furious and I wanted him to know it. I wanted him to realize that I was not the only one who would pay the price of his foul hatred and I hoped that this knowledge might make my brother think twice about what he had done. Because I also knew that I would forgive him if he only tried.  
  
But every time he opened his mouth, Fíli only spewed more venom and I saw no reason to subject myself to his company if he could not control his hate. Thus while he was still my brother and I would probably always love him, by the time we reached the hall of Gandalf's friend we barely talked at all, though I could feel him watching me as I walked at my hobbit's side.  
  
However when our company entered the wooden hall and the wizard introduced us to Beorn, I was briefly distracted from my problems by the conundrum of this enormous, quiet man. Our host was intriguing, rough and feral in a way I'd never seen before and yet there was a kindness underneath the surface that I didn't think the others saw. Yet, as fascinating as I found the man, I was far more interested in exploring his home with Bilbo for I hoped that this would allow us to deepen our relationship in ways which we could not on the road and I hoped that the size of it would allow me to avoid Fíli's continual attempts to interfere.  
  
While I could not avoid my brother entirely, it was easy enough to keep my distance and even when uncle assigned us to work together I did not have to speak. There was no point in responding anyway for all he spoke of as we cleaned and repaired gear was of the mistake that I was making and while Fíli tried to make it seem that he was only being logical, I could see the disgust buried in his eyes.  
  
It hurt to know what he truly thought of me and so as soon as we finished working I would slip away to find my hobbit, follow him out into the gardens and dream of better days. With just the two of us together I could pretend that no one would judge us harshly and I needed this reminder of what I was fighting for.  
  
Yet even though it pained me, in a strange way I was almost grateful for Fíli's resistance because every argument taught me what my love could overcome. Because I knew that our relationship would face challenges and if we were going to survive them, I could not hide my head in the sand and pretend that everything was fine. I had to make my choice with open eyes so that when our love came due, I did not resent the price.  
  
And I didn't, for no matter what my brother threw at me it was never worse than the thought of losing Bilbo, which is how Fíli almost broke me in the end. I had known about our age difference but I had never realized just how far the scales were tilted until I learned the age that hobbits died.  
  
“Because you know he'll be dead in about fifty years anyway,” My brother told me, almost offhand on the third morning before getting into all the other reasons why I should marry a woman of his choice. But my mind stuck on those words, that casual deadline added to Bilbo's life and as soon as I could escape I thought it over and realized that his statement was true. Now that I was looking for it, I could see confirmation there in my hobbit's stories, in the remarks to which I had paid little attention at the time.  
  
I wanted to scream then, scream at the injustice of it all. For no matter what I did, no matter how hard I fought to make my family understand, I was still going to lose Bilbo too soon in the end. And because I was only flesh and blood I wondered, I wondered if it was worth paying such a high price for a love that could not last.  
  
Yet even as I thought this, I knew that I could never give him up for doing so would not spare me any pain. It was far too late for that and whether I broke his heart now or broke mine later was the only choice I had to make. So I resolved to treasure the time we had together and never waste another chance.  
  
When I came to this decision, I went to find Bilbo and lead him toward Beorn's gardens, determined to make good on my vow. We had spent many hours there already, trading tales and kisses and as soon as we were out of sight I leaned down and pressed my lips to his again. His mouth was soft and warm as he melted into my embrace with a contented sigh and I savored the heartbeat that I could feel against my chest. _Alive for now. Alive for as long as I can keep you._  
  
“What's gotten into you?” My hobbit asked me with a crooked grin when we finally drew apart. “You're usually a bit more cautious than that.”  
  
I didn't want to tell him about my revelation so I just shrugged and wrapped an arm around his shoulders while I led him deeper into the maze of plants. There was no need for him to know how his death would hurt me when it was not in his control and I did not want to scare him off. I could tell that he was starting to return my feelings, but I hadn’t yet told him just how much he meant to me. “Can't I just be happy to see you?”  
  
Bilbo scoffed, ducking under the leaves of Beorn's raspberry bushes in order to reach our hideaway. “You're always happy to see me, but I wasn't complaining. Just surprised.” There was a sort of grotto here, a sheltered clearing between the plants and the house walls where no one could interrupt us and it was our favorite place in the gardens to sit and talk.  
  
Although I had been trying to hide it, my hobbit must have sensed my melancholy mood for he sat down and leaned back against the wall before reaching out a hand. “C'mere love,” he said gently and I let him pull me forward, ending up sprawled across him with my head in his lap.  
  
His warmth was comforting and I didn't say anything for a moment as I enjoyed the feel of him and the way his hand stroked slowly across my back. I wanted to tell him that I loved him and that I was in this for as long as he would have me, but I didn't know how to begin such a declaration so I fell back on a well worn request instead. “Will you tell me more about the Shire?”  
  
"Again?" Bilbo laughed softly and brushed hair away from my face. "Haven't you heard enough yet?"  
  
 _Never_ , I thought with a bittersweet pang in my heart as I curled toward him, tucking my head deeper into his lap. _I will never have enough of you._ But I tried to keep these dark thoughts from my voice when I replied, “I like listening to you, it's soothing. And it seems only fair, since I've told you everything important about me already.”  
  
“Somehow I doubt that greatly. If it were true you couldn't keep surprising me so well.” Bilbo said fondly, before giving in as I knew he would. “But if you want a story, let me think. You've already heard all about Bag End and the Party Tree and my relatives, both dear and not.”  
  
“Heh, yeah. I would love to see uncle Thorin meet those cousins of yours, the Sackville-Bagginses, maybe he'd finally have to change his expression.” _Mahal knows uncle could use someone to put him in his place and maybe then us Durins would finally see the dangers of letting pride and greed rule where hearts should lead._  
  
That thought brightened my mood slightly and Bilbo also stifled a chuckle at the image, running his hand gently through my hair. He had talented fingers and although I could hear him talking, I just let his voice wash over me, truly relaxing for the first time since Fíli had nearly broken me apart. However, my hobbit could tell that I wasn't really listening and he poked me in the side with his other hand, regaining my attention in time to hear a statement with which I heartily agreed.  
  
“But it's a beautiful place as I'm sure you saw, all rolling green hills and swift-running streams.  
  
The market in Hobbiton is the largest in the Shire and hobbits from all the neighboring towns such as Bywater and Needlehole come there to do their shopping every day. You can buy anything you could possibly need: fruits and vegetables, meat and eggs, pipeweed, clothing, flowers and jewelry. And on the major market holidays everyone comes from as far as Hardbottle in the North, Gamwich in the South, and across the Brandywine to the East, because that's when people sell bigger items like cows and furniture.  
  
In the spring and summer wandering pedlars who sell rarer odds and ends often appear, that's how I picked up most of my books and maps, and the news of them always travels far and wide before they arrive. Getting metalwork has been harder since the old smith passed on, but Old Boffin's quite handy with a knife sharpener and we can always send up to Bree for pots.  
  
Although of course everyone always says that no one has a gift for metal like the dwarves so whenever your people pass through on their way to other places, hobbits come out of the woodwork with things they want repaired. All the delicate and complicated metalwork is saved for your skilled hands and it's always quite a crowd. I have this old clock passed down from my grandfather that I'd been meaning to get fixed for years but I could never make it through the crush...”  
  
The more Bilbo told me about his home the more wonderful it seemed and it almost scared me how clearly I could picture it in my mind. I could see us there together building a new life, see myself sliding easily into the role of smith and husband and some of that longing seeped into my voice when the hobbit finally drifted off. “It sounds lovely. As fine a home as you could want.”  
  
He smiled down at me and I heard the same yearning in his words when he replied. “It is. I think you'd love it there.”  
  
I had to look at him then, shifting over onto my back to see his face and the love I saw there gave me the courage to finally ask the question which had been stuck in my throat. “Do you think... maybe when this quest is over, I could come back to Hobbiton with you?”  
  
“Of course, love. Of course you can.” Bilbo answered, leaning down to hug me tight and I returned the embrace nearly lightheaded with relief. However, when my hobbit drew back there was worry on his face as well and he asked me with concern, “But are you sure? I mean you're a prince and I don't want you to get in trouble with Thorin or anyone.”  
  
I could hear the doubt in his voice and I could not bear it so I leaned up to kiss him again. My hobbit had reason for his caution since I had mentioned Fíli's disapproval in order to explain the continuing need for secrecy but I wanted him to know that I still had no regrets. I wanted him to understand the truth as I saw it and while I may have downplayed my family's reaction slightly, I needed to remove the worry from his eyes.  
  
“I may be one of uncle's heirs but I'm the spare and everyone recognizes that. Mahal knows my family has always despaired of my ever acting like a proper representative of Durin's line. So while my relatives won't approve at first they should get over it eventually, and I don't care about what anyone else thinks. Being with you is worth it.” _And it is, it's worth everything and maybe it won't cost as much as we fear. Maybe over the course of this journey my brother will come around, but even if he doesn't, you shouldn't feel guilty over the choice that I have made. There is no need for you to bear the brunt of Fíli's hate._  
  
“So I am sure, I promise. I want you, more then anything.” Reassurances made my mind turned to more pleasant things, and I could not resist a bit of teasing, a promise of things to come, my voice going husky at the wicked thoughts that filled my mind.  
  
“I want you and I would have you already if I could. Kiss you senseless as I undress you oh so slowly, button by button revealing your soft skin. I'd worship you with hands and mouth until you're begging me to take you and I would, eventually. Once I've worked you open and you're writhing on my fingers, so overcome with pleasure that all you can do is gasp my name. I'd kiss you then, lick my way into your mouth and swallow your cries as I finally push my way inside you. And you'd accept me greedily for you'd want it, you'd need me to fill you to the brink.”  
  
Bilbo made a hungry noise at these words, a growl to match my own and leaned down to claim my mouth passionately. I loved him like this when his desire outweighed his sense of propriety, rough and demanding against my lips.  
  
We broke for air, no more than a brief gasp before I pulled him back to me, thrusting into his mouth as I wished to drive into his body. Although we lacked the supplies and privacy to do what I truly wanted, there was plenty left for us to explore and our tongues tangled, hot and wet. My hobbit moaned and wrapped an arm around my neck while I shimmied upright so that I could straddle him and press him back into the wall. He was soft and warm and welcoming as I ground against him, kissing fierce and desperate before tracing a line down his throat.  
  
“You drive me crazy you know that? You drive me absolutely mad. You're all I can think about when I'm laying awake at night, the itch to touch you burning in my veins.” I whispered as sucked a mark into his neck and slipped my hand beneath his shirt to get at skin.  
  
“I lie there and wonder if you feel it too, if you would be as hard as I am if I reached out to touch. If you would moan and shudder and come apart beneath my hand. I've thought about it, about covering your mouth and stroking you beneath the cover of darkness, where one wrong sound would give us away. Or you could wear your ring and ride me by the fire, hidden to their eyes but not my touch. You would have to stay quiet, bite back your cries as I pressed you open and lowered you down upon my cock. Could you do that? Could you keep silent while I drive into you, deeper than you've ever known?”  
  
Bilbo trembled against me, every word making his heart hammer and his pulse jump under my tongue. I rocked forward as I kept talking, our hard lengths grinding together in a slow burn which sent sparks sizzling beneath my skin. He moaned, a breathless gasp and then it was my turn to shudder when my hobbit wrapped small fingers around my aching dick.  
  
“Valar but you're beautiful like this,” Bilbo murmured against my ear, stroking firmly and it was all I could do to return the favor. I covered his hand with mine and grabbed our cocks together, rubbing them together in a slick and filthy slide. With every stroke our fingers tangled and the pleasure coiled higher, messy kisses dissolving into frantic licks as we rutted against the wall. It only took a few more moments before both of us were coming, my vision flashing white behind my eyes as I slumped against his chest.  
  
“One of this days we are actully going to find a proper bed,” I said with a grin when I could finally think enough to speak.  
  
“I'm holding you to that.” Bilbo told me, poking my cheek and laughing when I wrinkled my nose. “If my hands are sticky then it's your fault and you know it. I do hope you had some sort of plan to clean us up.”  
  
“Hmm, maybe. You still have Bofur's handkerchief?” I asked and had to chuckle myself at his disgruntled look.  
  
“I would not call that a real handkerchief, but yes. A proper hobbit would never be without one and this is the closest thing I have. Maybe Beorn has something better that I can nab before we go.” He replied, pulling it from a pocket and wiping off his hands before handing it over so I could finish cleaning us up.  
  
“Planning to be a real burglar now, are you? Though I wouldn't count on finding anything you like. Our host doesn't seem like the type for frills and what he thinks of as a handkerchief would probably be blanket-sized on you.”  
  
“Are you calling me short, Master Dwarf? Because I'll have you know I'm quite a respectable height for a hobbit. Positively tall even.” Bilbo raised an eyebrow and frowned in mock offense for a few seconds before we both lost it, dissolving into helpless laughter. Still giggling I eventually managed to push myself off his lap and settle against the wall by his side, nudging his arm with a raised eyebrow of my own.  
  
“I think tall may be an overstatement, but you're not short, you're the perfect size for me. And I think it's my turn to tell a story now.” My hobbit nodded his agreement and laid his head on my shoulder before asking about dwarven myths and legends and soon the pair of us were off in a discussion which easily wiled away the afternoon.  
  
\---  
  
The next days passed far too quickly for my tastes even though I recognized that time was running out and so I was disappointed when Gandalf and Thorin gathered us together to declare that we were ready to move on. Everyone else cheered before the meeting quickly dissolved into a flurry of packing and preparations because honestly, a little more warning would have been nice.  
  
I lost track of my hobbit in the chaos and when he returned awhile later he was strangely subdued, but he would not tell me what was wrong. However I assumed that Bilbo was simply worried about heading back out into the dangers of the world now that he had seen how close our deaths might come.  
  
It hurt to see him this depressed and so I allowed myself to hold him close that night, wrap an arm around him in the corner where no one else could see. Beorn's house had been a dream for us, a lovely dream, but now we had to wake up and I could only hope that the harsh reality of our situation would not bring us down.  
  
In the morning, our host loaned us ponies to carry our company to Mirkwood and Bilbo seemed to be feeling better, cheered by the crisp air and brilliant skies. If he still looked at me with worry periodically then I tried not to hover for I knew that I could not protect my love from everything, not if I truly wanted a partner in my life. However, this did not mean I had to abandon my hobbit to his brooding so I would ride next to him whenever I could, spinning tales and jokes to keep him occupied and keep my mind off Fíli's glares.  
  
Because while my brother had stopped trying to convince me that I was wrong, he still refused to believe that I was right and where there had once been love between us now there was only a bitter spite. For all that I did not regret my choice, this rift still bothered me and I hoped that when Fíli cooled off enough to listen we could at least come to some kind of middle ground.  
  
By this time everyone had noticed the chasm in our hearts and uncle tried to talk to me about it in all his awkward glory. He warned me that the company could not afford to be divided as we headed into the evil of the Mirkwood and practically demanded that the two of us make up.  
  
I told him the truth instead.  
  
I told him that the next move must be Fíli's and though Thorin would have protested, I cut him off with a promise that we would not let our disagreement endanger our quest. While I meant this vow, the fact that I had to make it left me in a foul mood and when we finally reached the forest's edge, I was ready to just call it a day. But then my hobbit grabbed my hand with a smile and I decided that life was looking up.  
  
He led me off into the darkness and as soon as we were out of sight of the camp, I took him in my arms and kissed him, walking him back against a tree. “I've missed you,” I whispered against his mouth before Bilbo tugged my head forward to meet his lips again. We kissed until neither of us could breathe and while there was a strange desperation in the way he moved against me, I was distracted by the sweetness of his mouth and the heat under my hands.  
  
However, when we finally broke for air, my hobbit pushed me away and his face was grave when he told me to wait. “I need to talk to you,” Bilbo said and I felt a chill wash over me for those words had never brought good tidings.  
  
“Is something the matter?” I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.  
  
Yet he didn't answer, just stared at the ground and the longer he refused look at me, the deeper my dread grew. Until eventually he mumbled his response and I felt the world grow faint. “No... or rather yes. We need to end this relationship.”  
  
“What?! Why? What did I do wrong?” _There must be some mistake,_ I thought in horrified disbelief as a knot of panic formed within my chest. _You love me, I know you do and you promised that we would make a home together when my duty was fulfilled. Why would you change your mind?_  
  
“Nothing, it's not your fault. It's just... You're so young and you have so much life ahead of you, you deserve better than a middle-aged hobbit who's going to die of old age when you're barely in your prime.” Bilbo replied and my heart faltered to hear him speak my greatest fear aloud. Yet I had conquered it and I had made my choice, so all I had to do was make him see.  
  
“But that's what I want! You don't have to protect me from this sorrow because I know what I am facing and loving you is worth it.”  
  
My hobbit was crying now and the sight of tears dripping down his cheeks almost made me miss the words that spilled like daggers from his mouth. The words that were trying to destroy everything that I held dear. “You can't know what you're saying. You think you're in love with me now, but how will you feel when you've given up everything for me? When your family disowns you, your people hate you and then my death breaks your heart. I can't hurt you like that, I can't! It's not fair to you.”  
  
“Bilbo, I don't care. This is my choice to make and I would rather spend fifty years in joy with you than two hundred with a severed heart. Please, you don't have to do this.” I begged him frantically, trying to make him meet my eyes. If he would only meet my eyes then he would have to see my sincerity and he would know the truth of how I felt. I didn't understand where this was coming from, why he refused to believe that I could love him, but I needed him to understand that he would spare me no pain like this.  
  
“Can't you see it's better this way? You'll have your family and your people and someday you'll find love again and you'll grow old together. You will.” Bilbo was pleading now and the anguish in his voice was more than I could bear.  
  
 _This must be my fault somehow. Maybe if I had just told you the truth earlier we wouldn't be here now, I know you don't want to leave me either or you would not be crying. Please just stay so we can work this out._  
  
“No, no I **won't!** ” I told him desperately. “I know I hadn't told you yet but I love you and I know you feel the same... Bilbo, **please.** ”  
  
“It's for the best,” My hobbit whispered and then he left me, ducked under my arm and ran as though Azog himself were on his heels. He **left** me, taking my heart with him and leaving only a gaping hole within my chest, a wound that would not heal. All I could do was stare into the darkness where he had vanished, frozen with the hope that if I just waited long enough Bilbo would reappear. But he didn't return and I couldn't, I couldn't breathe when the future spread out before me, a barren wasteland with no reason to go on.  
  
Then I was on the ground for my legs would no longer hold me and I buried my head in my hands as I rocked back and forth muttering my denial. My heart was bleeding out, my hopes naught but jagged shards within my chest and I knew then that there was nothing left for me. There was nothing left but sorrow, no light to fill my world, and I wept in mourning for the dwarf who'd dared to dream.

 


	3. Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey through Mirkwood.

It was a long time before I was able to stand again, once my tears were finally spent and my sobs reduced to choking gasps. Yet even after I dragged myself to my feet, I could not bring myself to move, instead leaning heavily against the tree where I had kissed my hobbit such a short time ago. For while I knew I should return to camp, I simply could not face them. I could not bear to face my brother and see the poorly hidden triumph in his eyes, not when my wounds were still fresh and bleeding.  
  
Perhaps I was actually doing Fíli wrong by this assumption and he would have welcomed me with open arms, soothed my hurts without saying that he had told me so. But I doubted it. That would require the older brother I remembered not the arrogant stranger who now walked in his place and I had not seen that Fíli for quite some time.  
  
My reluctance also stemmed from the fact that I did not wish to have confirmation of my sorrow, to watch Bilbo turn away from me once more. How could I return to camp and not ache to hold him? How could I not suffer at the sight of him when my heart had not yet said goodbye? As long as I stayed here in this wooded clearing, I could pretend that our conversation was no more than a nightmare from which I would soon wake to a more pleasant dream.  
  
Indeed I could hardly grasp what had just occurred and the speed at which my life had shattered took my breath away. How could my hobbit leave me like this when I was sure that he still loved me? How could he have been willing to cause us both such pain?  
  
It simply didn't make any sense because Bilbo had obviously been hurt by his words as much as I was and remembering the sorrow in his eyes made my own heart bleed fresh. _Why would he destroy us like this and how did he discover that dwarves love only once? Why does no one believe me when I tell them that I know what I want?_  
  
Yet for all my recriminations, I could not truly blame him because I should have been the one to tell my hobbit what our love would cost. I should have been there with Bilbo to support him through the shock of learning the endless grief his death would cause. So I could not hate my love for wanting to spare me heartbreak, no matter how badly his intentions had gone wrong.  
  
I had never been able to hate people even when I should and Fíli used to chastise me for feeling too much too keenly. Indeed my brother used to rebuke me for putting other's happiness before my own and I always thought it was a great hypocrisy because what he truly meant was that I should listen to my family's demands alone. But it was true enough because despite my small rebellions, Bilbo was the first thing I had chosen for myself since I could remember and if he had truly wanted to leave me, I would have let him go without a fight.  
  
Yet my hobbit had not been happy when he said his goodbye and I was done living my life by what others thought was right.  
  
Whatever grief Bilbo had hoped to spare me was already tearing at my chest and so what did I have to lose by fighting to convince him of his error? I had to make him understand that I preferred to let our love burn fiercely, short and swift though it may be, rather than attempt to smother it and live forever with cold embers in my heart. I had to make Bilbo see that this was not just some foolish infatuation, no matter what my brother wished to think, and that I had made my choice with open eyes.  
  
But not tonight, tonight I grieved for those first golden days of love and laughter which I had hoped would never end. Tonight I walked back into our camp and felt my hopes die a little more when my hobbit would not even meet my gaze. He had become my solace and my sanctuary and now I was bereft, the walls of my heart shattered and defenseless against the desolate chill of my despair.  
  
So I curled up alone by the fire and prayed desperately that tomorrow would be a better day.  
  
\---  
  
It was not.  
  
When I awoke it took me a moment to remember what had happened and why there was no hobbit sleeping at my side. But when I did my grief rose anew, an icy hand clenching in my chest and it was all I could do not to weep again.  
  
However, as much as I might wish to fall into despair once more, I had to be strong and so I forced myself to rise and face the day, though every time Bilbo walked away from me was another dagger in my heart. He was the only one I wished to speak with but he simply wouldn't listen to me and now I knew how my brother must have felt these last few weeks.  
  
Not that I was ready to forgive him either because while he tried, he could not hide his pleasure at the loss that I now faced and my empathy did not extend that far. Indeed the first words Fíli said to me were, “I warned you,” and after that I refused to listen anymore. So just as my hobbit avoided my gaze, I avoided my brother and the rest of our company could only stare on in confusion at our odd and awkward dance.  
  
However, despite my grief I still meant to keep my promise for in some things blood ran true. A Durin's word was his bond, even that of a Durin who was the shame of his family, and thus I would tell no one the true reason for my pain.  
  
 _Not until we reclaim Erebor. Only then will I be free of my duties to live the life I want and yet what is the point if I don't have Bilbo at my side?_  
  
This thought came near to destroying me again and while I knew that they were worried, I made myself avoid the rest of our company as well. While they might offer comfort, with my mask in shambles the slightest kindness could shatter my resolve and the results would not be merciful. Either I would break my word and beg my hobbit to reclaim me where everyone could see or I would give up on love entirely to pretend forever that I was whom my brother wished that I could be. And no matter which way I fell, I would hate myself for who I had become.  
  
So instead I threw myself into packing, hoping that busy hands might clear my mind and truly we needed to be prepared. While this whole quest had been one near-death experience after another, there was something different about this forest and as I stared into the trees, I shivered at the sheer malevolence I felt. This part of our travels would be a test of our resolve and I wasn't sure if I could pass it with mine already weakening, particularly when Gandalf chose that moment to say goodbye.  
  
Our wizard announced quite suddenly that he had business to the North and although my uncle argued vehemently against this abandonment, the other could not be swayed. So there was fear visible on my companions' faces, the same fear that already stirred within my heart and I did not know how we would survive the coming days.  
  
Even my dear egotistic brother seemed shaken by the wizard's loss and as we finally walked beneath the trees, Fíli poured out his worries in my ears. These worries were well-founded for doom must truly stalk the world if Gandalf now considered Smaug a lesser threat and no matter the heartbreak that I faced, I still did not wish to die. So I listened carefully in order to be prepared for whatever danger the future brought and because for the first time in weeks Fíli was discussing something other than the many reasons why Bilbo was a mistake.  
  
While I knew that my brother still believed my love was wrong, perhaps we could repair our bond somehow and though I walked away this time, our conversation gave me hope within my grief because it was proof that he still saw me as a an ally against the cold uncaring world.  
  
It gave me hope that he might realize what his stubbornness would cost and that one day we would be brothers once again, Fíli learning to accept if not approve of the path I wished to trod. Though first I had to convince Bilbo to walk it with me and I swore I would not rest until my hobbit took me back into his arms.  
  
Yet he would not.  
  
With every day that passed without a hint of reconciliation, I lost more of my hope and the oppressive atmosphere of the Mirkwood began to wear me down. For Bilbo still refused to listen, fleeing whenever I approached and although my pain eventually eased enough that I could have worn my mask again, I simply didn't have the heart. I didn't have the heart to pretend that things were fine when my every breath was still bleeding and I avoided talking to the others so I didn't have to lie.  
  
However they still noticed, of course they did for the change was obvious to anyone who knew us and none of them were blind. But to my surprise rather than asking questions that I could not - **would not** \- answer, they simply began to help us in whatever ways they could.  
  
Bofur was the first who tried to ease our sorrow, walking at my side to keep the loneliness away and it warmed my heart to see him do the same for Bilbo as well. His friendly presence was a comfort and if I had not promised Fíli otherwise, I might have told him of my grief because if anyone would be sympathetic it was Bofur, sharing my inclinations as he did. However, my oath kept my voice silent and perhaps this was for the best since sympathy did not mean support when the hammer fell.  
  
Still I appreciated the effort and as each of my company came forward in turn, I thanked Mahal for the friends I had been given, friends who cared to notice the sorrow in my heart.  
  
So I accepted gratefully when Ori gifted each of us with a new scarf to keep the chill at bay and my voice might have become choked as Bifur placed a finely carved wooden figurine into my hand. It was the image of my mother and I tucked it carefully into the folds of my tunic so that even if my choice cost me my family someday soon, I would still have this.  
  
That night when I tried to speak to Bilbo once again I saw him holding a figure of his own, the great tree of Hobbiton standing tall upon his palm. It was a piece of his home, a symbol of the life I had hoped we'd make together and the sight of it brought fresh tears to my eyes.  
  
However before I could sink back into despair, Dori was at my side and suddenly I was wrapped up by the fire, a steaming cup of tea placed in my hands. For the rest of that evening I was distracted from my pain by Balin who began spinning tales of dwarvish myth and history until even Bilbo was drawn from his depressed shell. This was the first time I had seen my hobbit smile since he had said farewell and an ache grew in my chest as I wondered if my brother might be right and everyone really would be happier if I just left him alone.  
  
 _Perhaps he truly does need to forget me in order to find peace. Hobbits can love more than once and maybe if I were not holding him back, he would be able to find a love that would not bring him pain._ Yet everything Bilbo had told me about Hobbiton had painted a picture of loneliness to match my own and I could not believe that he would actually be happy without me there.  
  
I could not believe it or I would not believe it, it did not make a difference in the end because even if it was selfish of me I refused to let my hobbit go without a fight. Not until he had crushed my heart to pieces and all my hope was gone.  
  
However tonight I would not bother Bilbo anymore because I could not bear to see his smile disappear, small and wistful though it was, and I fell asleep watching the soft curve of his mouth. Over the days that followed I was ever more grateful for our companions because they kept up a mission of distraction which allowed me the space to think and plan. For if left to my own devices I would have fallen quickly back to begging and the last days had shown me that this was ultimately futile if my hobbit would not listen to what I had to say.  
  
So I waited instead, allowing Nori to pass the hours showing off his thievery and Óin to quiz me on the medicines he used. His brother tried to teach me to juggle nuts that we picked up off the ground and I poured my frustration into mastering the skill. When I couldn't stand the hidden worry in their eyes anymore, I would walk by Dwalin for he was the only one who still treated me the same.  
  
Through it all I watched my hobbit, waiting for a moment when my words might reach his heart and ensuring that he was not unprotected despite the distance which he kept. Through it all I dodged my brother because Fíli still radiated smugness when he tried to speak to me of Bilbo, a smugness that infuriated me when I gave it any mind. So I did my best to disregard him, staying on my guard whenever he drew near and ignoring the hint of satisfaction in his smile just as I tried to dismiss the displeased glances uncle sent my way.  
  
However, Thorin was the easier of the two to ignore because we had never been as close as Fíli and I once were and I had already told him where I stood. Besides he had other worries on his mind for with every step our company took toward the Lonely Mountain, my uncle was reminded of the battle still to come and the whispers which lived within the Mirkwood spoke of failure and of death.  
  
All of us could hear these murmurs and felt the presence of living shadows in the dark, but the words resonated most deeply with my uncle for they carried his greatest fears upon the wind and as our leader our lives were in his hands.  
  
My life as well and although I did not wish to live in Erebor, I knew I would die for it if necessary and I only hoped that I could reconcile with my hobbit before that moment came. If it came, but considering the enemy we faced, it was looking all too likely and I wondered how Bilbo could worry that his age would break me when neither of us might live out the year.  
  
Yet despite this truth, our reunion remained elusive and whatever fear had caused my love to reject me remained a stubborn shield around his heart. In fact, to my surprise it was the separation with my brother that first began to heal because against the evil of the Mirkwood all disagreements had to fade.  
  
\---  
  
It began with a river blocking our path, a stagnant and putrid thing like no water I had ever seen before. Although the stream seemed shallow, it was far too wide to jump and no one wished to risk wading it when its flow gave off such hate. Instead uncle ordered us to search for another way across and it was not long before I spied a boat tethered to the far shore.  
  
As I pointed it out to the others, I met Fíli's eyes and for a moment all was right between the two of us again. This was a problem we could solve together and for the first time since he had confronted me about my love for Bilbo, there was no judgment in my brother's gaze. There was only pride and he handed me his rope before I could even open my mouth to ask because he already knew what I would say.  
  
The shot was difficult, not for its distance but for its precision and for the line tied to the end of my arrow which increased its weight. But Fíli stood by me with a quiet confidence that steadied my hands and when I released the bowstring, my arrow flew swift and true.  
  
Indeed it landed precisely where I wanted it, traveling through the mooring ring on the prow of the boat and lodging there so that my brother and I could drag our new vessel to this shore. While it was certainly old, the boat appeared sturdy, cutting easily through the water, and it should serve to keep those carried within free from whatever taint the river held. The two of us were the lightest and most nimble of our company, other than Bilbo who lacked our strength, so we paddled across first, securing a line over the river to ease the others' passage.  
  
From there the road was smooth for our company pulled themselves along the rope in twos and threes and when most of them had crossed the water, I dared to hope that we would pass this obstacle unscathed. By this point only uncle and Bombur remained to travel onward becauseThorin would never run for cover before those he led were safe and we watched nervously as the pair stepped in the boat.  
  
The vessel creaked beneath the chef's considerable weight and he settled carefully in the bottom so that uncle could pull them both across. Without Bombur's aid it was slow going but he would have caused more harm than good in the attempt. As they drew toward us inch by inch, I stood with my bow drawn and ready, watching for anything which might choose to attack them while they could not defend. However, everything appeared to be fine for the pair neared the shore with no surprises and I was about to relax when the boat began to crack beneath their feet.  
  
Fíli yelled for uncle to cut the far end of the rope so that we could pull them forward and our company dragged them in as fast as we could. However it was not quite fast enough, for while Thorin managed to jump to safety, the wood split before Bombur could do the same and the other dwarf fell into the river with a splash.  
  
The moment his skin touched the water, the chef's eyes rolled up in his head and all we could do was watch as he crumpled, sinking like a stone. But before he could disappear forever, I moved to my brother's side and we used the remaining rope to drag our companion up onto the bank.  
  
As soon as Bombur was fully on dry land, Óin ran forward and I stepped back to give our healer room. When I did, my gaze fell on the hobbit who was watching us with an expression of shocked horror and for the first time in nearly two weeks, my love met my eyes.  
  
There was such pain there, pain and sorrow beneath the fear and for the first time I had proof that Bilbo was suffering from our separation just as much as me. Yet this revelation was not a comfort and when he looked away again, it was a sharp reminder of the rift I could not heal. I turned back to see my brother watching me and with this fresh wound upon my heart, I suddenly could not bear the thought of reconciliation. If Fíli had his wish both Bilbo and I would suffer like this forever and it seemed obscene that he could wish this pain on anyone, let alone his flesh and blood.  
  
So I turned away from him again, the small connection we had reformed now breaking and it hurt nearly as much this second time. But then Óin cried out that while Bombur seemed unharmed he would not wake and we could not leave him there.  
  
Instead Thorin ordered us to create a litter with which to carry our fallen companion and we pressed on through the gloom. However our already slow pace suffered beneath the extra weight and as our supplies started to dwindle, we began to lose the fight against despair. For we could not leave Bombur without betraying everything our people stood for, but at the same time I feared that our stubborn honor would cost us all our lives and I could see this same knowledge in my uncle's gaze.  
  
However Thorin had never been one for compromising so I also knew that there was no other choice - we would either win free of the Mirkwood with all of our companions or we would die here in this hell beneath the trees. We would die here for our honor and while I had always known that my duty might cost my life one day, the thought that it might take Bilbo's was almost more than I could bear.  
  
Thus the day that Bombur woke was a bright spot within the darkness and when we made camp that evening it was a far more joyful group than it had been in days past. Particularly since even the few bits of food which we had left tasted far better when prepared by our chef's skillful hands.  
  
So that night when Fíli sat down next to me again I decided to wait and see what he had to say, hoping that this had shown him the importance of family ties. Yet the moment he placed his hand on my arm and looked at me with steely determination, I somehow knew this would not be the case. And I was right.  
  
“I am sorry for your pain, brother. But it is for the best.” He said, words meant to be a comfort and yet nothing of the sort.  
  
 _That was it, that was the apology that I've been waiting for? That was really the best that you could do?_ I thought, stiffening in anger and then in sorrow as I realized that his opinion had not changed at al. So I asked him how he could believe that. I asked him, “How is this for the best?”  
  
For some reason Fíli seemed startled by my question, _did you truly think I would not challenge such a claim? Grief has not broken me just yet,_ and my brother shifted uncomfortably beneath my gaze. This time when he told me his reasoning I would listen and once I knew how far gone he was, I would decide what I should do. But when he finally answered it was in an awkward stammer which struck a strange chord in my mind. “Well, uh, because... Because you'll have your family and your people and someday you'll find love again and you'll grow old together. I am sure of it.”  
  
Something about the words sounded familiar and I tried to remember where exactly I had heard that phrase before. And then I realized, that was what Bilbo had told me on the night he broke my heart. He had used those exact words and how could my brother have known that unless he had been there? He had been there watching us and rage ignited in my chest as I realized why that must have been.  
  
“It was **you!** ” I snarled, caught between fury and horror as I realized the magnitude of what he must have done. _He was the one who told Bilbo the dark side of our future; he was the one who convinced him that he should say farewell._  
  
So before Fíli could gather his thoughts to lie to me again, I grabbed him by his coat and yanked him forward, demanding that he give me the truth. “What did you tell him? What did you do?!”  
  
“I did what I had to do to protect you from making a terrible mistake! You were going to ruin your life.” With these words my brother proved my fears beyond all doubt and proved that he felt no remorse for his actions, the fury in his voice fanning my own.  
  
“So you decided to ruin it for me?!” I gripped him tighter as a wave of hate washed over me and there must have been murder in my eyes for he recoiled as if struck. “I will **never** forgive you for this. You are no longer my brother, you are no longer my friend and when this quest is over you will not be my liege. Take care of yourself Fíli for I will not watch your back.”  
  
It was a vow and a promise, our bond shattered by his actions and my words. He had betrayed me worse than any enemy, lies hidden behind a smile and an unyielding vision of what he thought was right. And I hated him for it, in this moment I hated Fíli more than anyone whom I had ever known.  
  
Perhaps one day I would be able to forgive him but at the moment there was nothing but the red haze which filled my vision and his obvious confusion only increased my rage. How could he not understand what he had done to me? How could he look at me as though my fury was irrational when he had sabotaged the one true desire of my heart?  
  
 _How could my brother do this to me when I would have died to protect him and anyone he chose to love?_   So when Fíli opened his mouth to protest, I opened mine to cut him off, but before either of us could do more than whisper, something landed heavily upon my back.  
  
It was a spider, a giant monstrous spider which bit into my neck and I could see more of them dropping down on our companions from the trees. I shoved Fíli away and shouted a warning as best I could but the world was going dark around the edges of my vision and the last thing I saw was my uncle facing off against the beasts.  
  
\---  
  
“Kíli! Kíli, wake up. Can you hear me? Are you all right?” The voice sounded like my hobbit, sharp and worried, but it couldn't be him for Bilbo had not talked to me in weeks. _Am I dreaming... or dead?_   I wondered as I realized that I couldn't move my limbs. _But how could a hobbit be here in Mahal's halls?_  
  
Then there was a warm hand against my cheek and when I finally pried my eyes open, my hobbit was there, hovering over me with concern stamped upon his face.  
  
“Bilbo, what happened?” I asked muzzily, warmth growing in my chest at the love which I could feel in his gaze. My head was still heavy but sensation was returning to my body even as my memory of the last few days began to clear.  
  
“Spiders. Remember?” My hobbit asked while he helped me to my feet, the sight of web wrapped bodies hanging from the trees bringing the ambush to the forefront of my mind. “I escaped with my ring when they attacked and followed them back here to their lair. I couldn't stop them from taking you but I managed to lure them into an ambush of my own.”  
  
Bilbo waved one hand toward the edge of the grove and as my eyes cleared I saw a pile of corpses, spiders laying cold and dead upon the ground. There must have been at least half a dozen and I was filled anew with admiration for this hobbit who lived such endless courage and for one brief moment, he returned my smile.  
  
But then he must have remembered our last conversation because his smile disappeared and he stood quickly, once more refusing to meet my eyes. “I need to go cut down the others.” Bilbo muttered, staring fixedly at the ground. As he began to walk away I could feel my love slipping through my fingers and I knew that I had to talk to him now or I might never have another chance to change his mind.  
  
“Wait! Bilbo, please wait!” I reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back around to face me. “Please, you have to believe me. Whatever Fíli told you isn't true. My brother lied!”  
  
“Lied? Why would he...?” Bilbo's voice was more confused than convinced but he stopped pulling against my hold and when he finally met my eyes there was an openness there which I hadn't seen in weeks. “He said that dwarves only love once in their lives and that to love another male is forbidden, even more than you had said. He told me that if we continued to be together you would be separated from your family, banished and alone for the rest of your life. I couldn't let that happen...”  
  
He would have continued but I laid my fingers across his mouth for I could imagine the rest myself and I did not want to hear it from his lips. This moment was about my love for Bilbo not my rage, and even imagining how Fíli must have convinced my hobbit that I would be better off without him was enough to make me growl.  
  
So I kept my voice soft and earnest as I tried to repair the damage that my brother's words had wrought. “While it is true that dwarves only fall in love one time in our lives, it is far too late to spare me the grief of losing you. My heart already belongs to you and you cannot change that by casting me aside. So if we say goodbye now or in decades, I will grieve for you either way and I would rather have the joy of years together to warm me when you're gone.  
  
Besides no matter how much my family may disapprove, no one is going to cast me out, except possibly my brother, and he will not be king for quite some time. Even if I am banished my heart will never change, for you are all the family that I need and when you pass on they will not leave me alone in my grief. I promise you, that is considered a worse crime by far. Fíli is trying to destroy us because he thinks you are not worthy of our name but he is wrong and I don't regret choosing you.”  
  
“I- Are you sure?” Bilbo asked me and at the tentative hope in his voice I knew that my arguments had finally struck true. He finally believed how I felt about him and the wound across my heart might start to heal.  
  
“I have never been more sure of anything,” I promised him, feeling a brilliant smile spread across my face. “I just want to live with you and love you for as long we have.”  
  
“I love you too,” He whispered, at last saying the words which I had so dearly wished to hear. Then I leaned down and kissed my hobbit, wrapping my arms around him and savoring the feeling of rightness which I had started to fear I would never have again. And when Bilbo responded, lips sweet and welcoming against my own, all was finally as it should be in my world.  
  
Yet while I could have happily kept kissing him forever, this was neither the time nor place for what I wished to do and eventually we had to part. So I placed one last kiss on the corner of his mouth and then drew my sword to help cut the rest of our companions down. Perhaps it would have gone faster if I had been willing to let Bilbo out of my sight for more than a moment but every dwarf we freed was one more set of hands and so it wasn't long before we were all reunited once again.  
  
Or rather almost all of us. I didn't notice at first because I was listening to Bilbo explain the last few hours to Dwalin and his brother but when I finally looked up from their discussion, I realized that there was one member of our group whom I could not see. One dwarf who was missing and icy fingers wrapped around my heart.  
  
So as soon as Balin paused for breath I spoke up and announced the truth I did not wish to know. “Thorin is missing.” I told him, a slight waver in my voice and soon the rest of our company had come to the same conclusion, gathering around us with panic in their eyes. At first this panic led to chaos as everyone yelled over each other, trying to be heard above the noise and I must admit that I was no better than the rest. For I had been on watch last night and if uncle had been killed by the spiders, the guilt of his death would be mine to bear.  
  
“Enough!” A shouted command cut through the cacophony like an axe and shocked us to silence, all eyes turning toward the white-haired dwarf who stood glaring in our midst.  
  
“We will accomplish nothing without a plan so calm down and start thinking about what we need to do. Now, Bilbo, you were the only one who avoided capture, what do you know of Thorin's fate?” Balin asked and everyone turned to my hobbit who met their expectant gazes and shrugged uncomfortably.  
  
"I saw him fall to the spiders and he was carried off with the rest of you but I lost sight of the creatures for quite some time.  Thorin must have woken up somewhere along the way and escaped because only you twelve were here when I arrived. I know we must find him somehow but first we should leave this place and quickly, for though I killed many spiders there may be more of them hiding out there in the dark.”  
  
He pointed toward the pile of corpses and it amused me to see shocked wonder dawning in our companions' eyes even as I took pride in his accomplishments. _Serves you right for doubting him._  
  
Certainly no one else had expected this despite his bravery against Azog and there was a long moment of silence as everyone simply gaped at the damage my hobbit's blade had done. Of them Balin recovered first, perhaps because he had always been more fond of Bilbo than the rest and his words were filled with admiration. “You have quite a sting on you laddie. But you are right and we should leave before more danger finds us. Let us backtrack along the spiders' trail and perhaps we shall find a sign of Thorin there.”  
  
The plan was as sound as anything I could think of so our company gathered ourselves together to follow Bilbo back into the trees. Considering our recent ordeal I couldn't fault the speed of our progress but at the same time I chafed at every delay, worry for my uncle gnawing at my mind.  
  
I wish I could say that my fear stemmed solely from the knowledge of my duty and the need to keep my family safe, but this claim would be a lie. For while this was part of my concern, I also could not ignore the voice in the back of my mind which screamed that if Thorin died this would make my brother king. Fíli would be king and I would certainly be banished with no hope of seeing my family anymore.  
  
However, soon I had other worries for the path that Bilbo followed ended sharply in a gnarled and unbroken wall of trees and my hobbit laid a hand against one smooth wooden trunk as he muttered to himself.  
  
"I don't understand, it should be here. It's as if the forest grew up just behind the spiders in order to cover up their path."  
  
As mad as it sounded, my hobbit spoke truly for when we turned back our very footsteps had been erased and in all directions there was only the forest, as dangerous and trackless as the sea. Since we had little other choice, most of the company took this chance to rest and wrap their wounds while Balin pulled Bilbo and I aside.  
  
He had uncle's map and the one Gandalf had drawn, given to him for safe-keeping and his skill at navigation, and so together we tried to make sense of where we stood. To be honest the dwarvish map was next to useless for its focus was solely on Erebor and all that it told us was that the Lonely Mountain stood to our east. Even the wizard's was little more than a scrawl, the scribbles of a path and a mass of wooded darkness and now that we had lost the trail, it might as well be written in Sindarin.  
  
So it was up to me and Bilbo to divine our route and hope that we ran into my uncle somewhere along the way. Based on what my hobbit remembered about the spider's path, we had been carried roughly north-west from the trail so we at least knew the direction in which we should travel and I had always been able to feel north in my bones.  
  
Thus between the two of us and our near useless maps we soon had a rough idea of the direction we should travel and Balin agreed that our reasoning was sound. Yet we were no closer to knowing the route my uncle might have taken for Thorin's sense of direction above ground had always been unique at best.  
  
However, our options were severely limited so all we could do was map the shortest route to Erebor and hope that Mahal would smile down on us. All we could do was hope that we would stumble upon my uncle through sheer blind luck and thus as soon as we had rested enough to take the edge off our exhaustion, our company set out into the dark once more.  
  
\---  
  
Yet despite the troubles that plagued us, it was hard to keep from whistling for my hobbit was walking at my side once more. One small change and the world seemed completely different so neither my worry for my uncle nor the continuing gloom of the Mirkwood could bring my spirits down.  
  
For what was danger, starvation or the possibility of being lost forever now that my heart might be whole once more? How could I fear anything when Bilbo smiled at me with such adoration in his gaze? It was almost like the beginning again, that first flush of love within my chest and it was even better now because I knew that my hobbit loved me in return.  
  
He loved me and now that there were no more secrets between us, I was sure that nothing would ever be able to tear us apart again. Well other than the dragon, starvation or old age, but optimistic fool that I was, I decided to ignore those possibilities for now. They were in the future and I rather thought that I deserved some happiness after all the pain Fíli had caused.  
  
Therefore when my whistling was interrupted by an elvish spear pointed at my throat, I was most definitely not happy. They appeared suddenly out of the trees a few days after Bilbo freed us from the spiders' clutches and even if we had not been exhausted, there would have been no fighting them. Not outnumbered, out-equipped and on the elves' home ground where they melted like ghosts into the mist.  
  
My first thought was for Bilbo and as we closed ranks I shoved him behind me, using my height to keep him out of sight long enough for him to disappear. There was enough chaos as the elves wrestled twelve protesting dwarves to the rocky ground that they didn't seem to notice when our numbers diminished and I put on a show of struggling to help cover his escape.  
  
For there was no reason to fight seriously when the effort could only be futile and indeed it wasn't long before all of us were bound. Bound, disarmed and at our captors' mercy and no dwarf with a lick of sense would be so foolish as to expect leniency from an **elf**.  
  
Admittedly my days in Rivendell had shown me that some of their race could be trusted, but everyone knew Elrond Half-Elven was a special case and these elves were not making a great first impression.  
  
 _At least Bilbo is free,_ I thought, holding tightly to this small relief as our captors began to speak above our heads. Languages had never been my gift so I could not understand what they were saying, but my companions' faces spoke louder than any words and I could see that whatever fate lay in store for us would probably not be kind.  
  
Therefore I was not surprised when the elves dragged us to our feet and made us march onward through day and night, showing little sympathy for the weariness which slowed our pace. All attempts to rest were met with arrows or with spears and I could only hope that my hobbit was following for he had yet to give me a sign. Only when Ori finally collapsed in his tracks did our keepers allow our company to rest and I felt the featherlight touch of Bilbo's hand on mine.  
  
It was brief, barely more than a second but it was all I needed to know that he was with me and so when Dwalin covertly signed, _'Where hobbit?'_ in _Iglishmêk_ , I was able to reply, _'Escaped. Follows.'_ Some of my companions' worry eased with this message for even those who didn't like Bilbo knew the value of a ally of whom our guards were not aware.  
  
This was all the discussion we had time for because just after my statement, the elves prodded us back to our feet and our march began again. We traveled for another day and into the evening before we finally reached the rotten heart of Mirkwood and stood in front of the elf king's hall.  
  
It was a strange building, formed of living trees and water in the manner of Rivendell and yet it lacked the grace of Elrond's house. Instead the structure seemed almost twisted, its harmony distorted and there was no joy on the faces of those elves whom we passed by.  
  
Our original captors seemed glad to be rid of us, handing our weapons and bonds over to the gate guards as quickly as possible before disappearing back into the woods. Only their captain remained, following the guards who led us into the depths of the hall and Balin signed, _'Say nothing,'_ as we paused before a pair of intricately carved doors.  
  
“Captain Tauriel and prisoners to see the King,” his steward announced and then we were moving forward into the throne room, forced to kneel in front of Thranduil himself. Although many of my companions were nearly vibrating with rage at our treatment and the sight of the elf's hated face, I couldn't help but be interested to see my childhood boogeyman in the flesh. For while I had been raised on tales of how Mirkwood had abandoned our people on the day of our greatest need, Thranduil didn't look evil to my eyes.  
  
Instead I rather thought that he looked tired, thin and worn around the edges in much the same way that my uncle had appeared whenever times were hard. Though the elf king also seemed to share my uncle's hate for when he finally spoke, Thranduil's voice was filled with naught but scorn.  
  
“Tauriel, wherever did you find this ragged lot?” He asked his captain and while I was trying to keep an open mind, I must admit that the disdain in his words needled at my skin. I might have decided that not all elves were evil but that didn't mean that all of them were good, and these Mirkwood creatures were getting on my nerves. Particularly when the captain replied with a disparaging remark about our inability to walk through their woods without a sound.  
  
 _If they make a crack about our weights like the elves in Rivendell I am actually going to snap,_ I thought to myself, though my annoyance was largely replaced with amusement as Balin stepped forward and somehow managed to insult Thranduil with every polite word he spoke.  
  
They bantered for a few moments, hatred hidden beneath a diplomatic riposte as fierce as any battle, but we were hardly in a position to negotiate so as much as I enjoyed the show, I knew that we would lose. All our temporary leader could do was delay the moment of our judgment and given how Thranduil's eyes were narrowing, antagonizing the elf king was not helping our odds. But then our captor said something which put all thoughts of that danger from my mind.  
  
For when Balin refused to tell him of our business, the elf asked haughtily, “Really? And if I told you that I had found one of your kinsmen, injured and alone, and granted him my hospitality, what would you tell me then?” There was only one dwarf whom that could be and a wave of relief washed over me at the knowledge that Thorin still lived and my brother was not king yet.  
  
However, while this news raised all our spirits, it did nothing to change our situation and Thranduil once again demanded to know the quest that brought us here. Alhough this seemed a rather strange question considering that there was only one thing that would bring dwarves to these parts and surely the elf would have recognized my uncle from the days of Erebor?  
  
 _Maybe he just wants to see us break,_ I thought to myself and indeed he truly seemed to enjoy having us in his power, though the gleam in his eyes was fast replaced by rage when Balin once again refused to bend.  
  
"Our business is ours and ours alone.  Our mouths are sealed against your threats and we will gladly accept the hospitality of your cells for we have the strength to keep our oaths." The dwarf told him, head held high, and while I was positive that this would not end well, I knew that I would have done the same. Dwarves were not known for their willingness to give in to ultimatums and those of Durin's line tended to be the stubbornest of all.  
  
Though as it turned out I was right, for the next words out of Thranduil's mouth were no peaceful benediction. “If you will not speak then you are liars, fools, or thieves and whichever it may be, you deserve your fate...” The elf proclaimed, eyes cold and hard as the finest steel. “Take them to the dungeons and let them rot there until they change their minds.”  
  
At this command his guards dragged us to our feet and out of the throne room, leading us ever downward into the earth. When we reached the dungeons, the elves searched us one last time before I was separated from my companions and shoved into a small stone cell, the door slamming shut behind me.  
  
\---  
  
Despite the horrors of my imagination, the worst part of our captivity was actually the boredom for the days passed without ever seeing anyone except the one silent elf who brought me my food. Perhaps the others were being interrogated or even tortured but no one bothered to ask me any questions and I started talking to myself just to hear the sound.  
  
During the early days escape was my first concern, escape and worry for Bilbo who had only his ring to protect him from our fate. However, it didn't take long to discover that without the proper tools or a miracle I would not be leaving this place without the elves' consent. Even the door, often a weak point in shoddy constructions, was more than three inches thick and had its hinges on the outside where I simply could not reach. And where I had hoped that I might escape when my meals were brought, I was not yet desperate enough to charge a crossbow and my guard was careful to keep me in his sights.  
  
So I worried and I paced and I recited all the old songs I could remember and wondered how long it would take me to go mad. If Thranduil intended to keep us here until his questions were answered, then I would likely never see the sun again and I was having trouble adjusting to that fact. Maybe if I were a proper dwarf it would not have bothered me, but I was not and that was that.  
  
Yet I could not tell the elf king what he wished to hear without breaking the oaths which I had sworn and while my family would likely disown me anyway, when the truth came out I needed to be able to face them with my head held high. So although Fíli could rot for all I cared, I was not ready to betray my uncle yet, not without much greater cause. However, while Thorin had his hate to sustain him, I had not made it past dislike and that was not enough to keep the walls from closing in.  
  
It was Bilbo who saved me from despair for I would not have lasted much longer on my own and while the elves had left me no weapons, even walls could be deadly in the right circumstance.  
  
I was asleep when he finally found me and his voice drew me from my nightmares, chasing away the darkness and the mist. When I opened my eyes to see his worried face, peering at me through the bars within the door, I first thought that I must still be dreaming but my hobbit was warm and flesh beneath my hands.  
  
“Bilbo, love. I was worried about you.” I told him, relief welling up in my chest as I stroked his cheek as best I could. It was a little awkward since the space in the door was set at elvish height not ours, but I would have done far worse than this to touch my love again. “Are you all right?”  
  
“Shouldn't I be asking you that?” He replied, raising his eyebrows and I had to smile faintly at the familiar sight. “I'm not the one locked up in the dungeons, am I? But I'm sorry it took so long to find you, this place is a maze and even with my ring it's hard to remain undetected.”  
  
I wanted to kiss him desperately, to wrap him in my arms and hold on tight until my heart could believe that he was real. But instead I had to content myself with joining our hands together and letting his voice wash my fears away. Yet as much as I would have liked to stand there with him for hours, it would not be long until my guard returned.  
  
“Have you found the others?” I asked, turning my mind toward escape once more. Now that my hobbit was here we had a chance and nothing was going to stop me from holding him again.  
  
“Most of them. No one seems to be injured either, just bored out of their minds.” Bilbo answered with a slight grin. “I haven't managed to find Thorin, Fíli or Dwalin yet though I should run into them soon. These dungeons are enormous and the elves have you all scattered about but there aren't that many more places for me to look.”  
  
“All right then. I suppose I should let you go find them so we can start planning our escape.” I said reluctantly and although my hobbit seemed just as loath to leave me again, Bilbo knew that I was right. So we untangled our hands and he dropped back down to the floor, though I didn't move from my position until he replaced his ring and disappeared before my eyes.  
  
“I'll be back as soon as I can,” My hobbit promised as he left the chamber and I tried not to worry about him out there on his own. _It's not like I could do anything to help without a ring of my own,_ I told myself but it was still a huge weight off my shoulders when he returned a few hours later with the news that he had found the rest of my kin.  
  
From then on the days had purpose once more for Bilbo would visit me when he wasn't passing messages for uncle and together we mapped out a plan. My hobbit had already discovered where the keys were held but he could hardly lead us out the way we came and the guards would need to be distracted before we could make our move. However, when he stumbled upon a river running through the cellar, a river upon which all trade to Laketown flowed, this was the largest problem solved.  
  
I wasn't sure how exactly my hobbit planned to use it considering that neither he nor the majority of our companions knew how to swim, but I trusted him to figure something out. So now we simply had to wait until the perfect moment, though as the days dragged on I began to wonder if it would ever come.  
  
To distract myself from these thoughts I focused instead on Bilbo and we spent many hours talking about whatever crossed our minds. While I still wished that I could touch him properly, even his presence was a comfort and these conversation gave me something to look forward to each day.  
  
Although I was less than pleased on the morning when my hobbit greeted me with this confession: “So I've been talking to your brother.” He said as casually he might comment on the weather and I was too shocked by the statement to do more than whisper, “Why?”  
  
“I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to know if there was a chance that he would come around.” Bilbo said and I just gave a bitter laugh.  
  
“I could have answered that. Fíli thinks he knows what's best for me and he's not going to change his mind no matter how often I try to tell him what I want.”  
  
“But he's your family. Even if he's been horrible and he has, how can you just give up on him?” My hobbit asked and it was all I could do not to scream at him for taking my brother's side.  
  
“I'm not giving up on him, he's the one who's giving up on me. I've tried to change his mind for months without success and I am done sacrificing my happiness in order to make my family happy. That's what I've done for my whole life and what has it gotten me other than a brother who doesn't know and doesn't care about who I really am? Do you want me to leave you like you left me? Because that's the only way that he is ever going to speak to me as his brother again.”  
  
“No! Kíli, of course I don't. I just want to understand” Bilbo told me and I felt my anger dissipate into guilt at the pain in his eyes. _Dammit brother, now even I'm hurting him because of you._ I clasped his hand in apology and turned the conversation to lighter things but I should have known that my hobbit would not give up so easily.  
  
Indeed the next day he brought up Fíli again and the truth in his words made my heart ache for better days. “He just wants to protect you, you know. He loves you and he doesn't want to see you hurt even if he's going about it all wrong.”  
  
“I know that.” I told him with a sigh. Bilbo was never let this go unless I explained things properly and I did not want him to feel guilty over something that was not his fault. “I know Fíli loves me but that only makes things worse because I can't even hate him anymore. However, while I know that he meant well, this doesn't mean I will **ever** forgive him for caring more about my reputation than my heart.  
  
So you see, there's really nothing to be done. Until Fíli understands how he has wronged me I cannot accept him as my brother anymore and you cannot force remorse into his mind. He must come to this himself or not at all and honestly, I think not is far more likely now. Besides even if I don't hate him, I am still furious and it will be some time before I can bear to look him in the eye.”  
  
Although I could see that Bilbo understood my point, I fully expected him to keep trying to change my brother's mind but as he never mentioned it again, I knew he must have failed. Despite anticipating this outcome from the start, it still hurt to see it made reality and so I was grateful when Bilbo finally said that it was time for us to leave these walls behind.  
  
\---  
  
He ran up to my cell that night, keys dangling from his hand and in a breathless rush explained that Thranduil was throwing a party which all his guards were required to attend. So the dungeons would be empty long enough for us to flee and after one quick kiss we ran on to find the others, Bilbo leading us down to the cellar in twos and threes.  
  
When our entire company was gathered, my hobbit explained that we would be escaping in wine barrels on the river and although no one looked very happy about the method, none of them complained. So once Bilbo was satisfied that we knew the plan, he went to try and find our weapons, while the rest of us began to pack ourselves away.  
  
The barrels were large enough that everyone fit easily if not comfortably and by the time our burglar returned, we were prepared to leave. Unfortunately he could not reach most of our weapons but at least we would not be entirely unarmed and when Bilbo handed me by bow, I almost kissed him then and there. Somehow I managed to restrain myself, instead stroking his cheek gently and hoping that he could read the thanks in my eyes. Though I had never before been so happy that it was a short bow by most people's standards until I was crammed into a barrel with it shoved in at my side.  
  
Then Bilbo eased the lid closed gently and with a splash, we were on our way to freedom at last. The trip was unpleasant in the extreme for every bump slammed me against the side of the cask and my bow was digging into me hard enough to bruise. However, I would have endured much worse than wet and cold and dark to see the sky again so I simply braced myself as best I could.  
  
I wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed by the time my barrel thumped into the shore and when my hobbit released me, I spent a long moment just laying on the ground. Everyone else was in similar shape as they staggered out of the river, a green tinge on their faces to match my own. However, now that we were free, my sickness was easing quickly and when Bilbo helped me to my feet I felt almost like my old self again.  
  
At least I did until I turned once more to the east and saw our goal, a dark shadow rising high above the plain. It towered over everything, even the enormous lake and the town that stood upon it, and once I saw it I could not look away.  
  
While most of my companions were overjoyed to see the Lonely Mountain now so close, I did not feel the same delight that sang within their hearts. For Erebor was not my home and though reclaiming it would free me, all freedom had its cost. Yet it had its rewards as well, so I wrapped an arm around my hobbit and swore to myself that whatever our future held, I would choose love over all other things and live without regret.

 


	4. Schism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company reaches Laketown.

Eventually Thorin called our company to attention and we set out toward Laketown, some of the others beginning a cheerful song. Despite the dark thoughts which still haunted me, I found their cheer infectious and even if I couldn't hear the music of the mountain, this didn't mean I couldn't sing along. For if these were to be my last days on Middle Earth, I wanted to enjoy them and there would be time enough to worry when we reached Erebor.

So I concentrated on the brilliant sky above me and the happy light in my hobbit's eyes, grinning proudly when Bombur praised his bravery with a cheer. Only Thorin and my brother seemed to find no joy in our surroundings and I wondered what could be running through their minds.

For while I knew that my relatives missed their homeland dearly, I sometimes wondered if it were truly love which drove them, because how could real love cause such possessiveness? Perhaps it was only about control instead and the belief that we owned this mountain just as my family tried to own my mind; perhaps it was this which would not let Fíli bend.

Today my brother certainly shared in the dark cloud that hovered over Thorin, walking apart from the company as he sent vicious glares my way. Whatever Bilbo had said when trying to change his mind only seemed to have made Fíli's anger burn more fiercely and I could feel his stare as a weight upon my skin. Yet the rage which simmered in my heart made it easy to ignore my brother's sullen judgment, though I still noticed when he moved to my uncle's side.

Whatever the two began to whisper to each other made their faces darken further, but I knew that their words could have naught to do with me. My brother would never tell Thorin the truth of what I'd chosen and if their discussion were truly important, I would hear of it soon enough.

 _Maybe this is a sign that uncle has finally recognized the challenge which stands before us, instead of resting all our hopes on the chance that Smaug has died,_ I thought, watching the dwarves conspire. However, before I came to any conclusions, I was distracted from my musings when our company finally reached the shores of Esgaroth and the bridge to Laketown stretched before my eyes. This city had been visible at some distance, but the closer that we came, the more I was fascinated by its strange construction.

Although I had heard tales of the town as a child, I had never really understood how people could survive without any earth beneath their feet. Yet there it was, a village floating upon the lake with only one long causeway to tie it to the shore.

The bridge was not even guarded along the bank, leaving their enemies free to cut the planks loose without reprisal, but perhaps this was part of the city's plan. For the men of Laketown must be skilled upon the water to survive this life and so it was they who would benefit from a battle far from land. Besides, the shadow of the mountain could not be forgotten and any weaknesses against other foes were surely worth the added protection against the dragon's flame.

Our company stopped briefly at the edge of the causeway so that my uncle could give us orders on how to act within the city, orders based on secrecy. Thorin was determined to keep our purpose hidden, lying to the men even as we begged hospitality, and I began to think that our long imprisonment had addled his mind.

For while my uncle had always been suspicious of outsiders, there was a difference between watching out for our family and lying to those who would be our allies if we won. How could he hope to build trust between our kingdoms if his first act was one of betrayal and even the Lonely Mountain would not be able to stand alone. However, I could see from the stubborn set of my uncle's shoulders that speaking would do no good and so I held my tongue.

Instead I nodded along with the others as Thorin swore us to secrecy, while privately thinking that a share of gold would be a small price to pay for aid in our endeavors. _Though I know Fíli would say that this just proves my perversity and a true dwarf would guard his treasure with his life. He doesn't understand that I have found my gold already,_ I thought, watching the sun glint off Bilbo's hair.

Still I would not break my oaths so I was bound to follow my uncle until we reclaimed Erebor, whether or not I agreed with the path he chose. And I had to admit that I found his flustered expression rather amusing when we reached the other end of the bridge and our hail was answered by an excited call.

"Open the gate lad, open the gate and let them in," a man cried out, walking through the entryway to stand before our sight. He was the oldest human that I had ever seen but there was an aura of power around him nonetheless and he greeted Thorin by name. _So I guess these men aren't the fools you thought, uncle,_ I snorted to myself, finding a sort of bitter pleasure in the ruin of his plan.

The old man introduced himself as the Master of Laketown and started into a grand speech of welcome, though I tuned out after the first few words. I understood enough of politics to know that this show was little more than fluff for the watching masses and I was far more interested in his guards.

For they were younger than their leader, dressed in leather and chain armor, and one of them carried a long bow that was near as tall as I. It was this bow which drew my gaze because it was clearly an heirloom, the wood of its limbs darkened with use and age. Yet it was also well cared for, polished and gleaming in the sun, and I wanted to test its weight beneath my hands. While I knew that this would be impossible given its size, I could at least challenge its owner to a match of skill.

However, this contest would have to wait because the Master had finished his welcome and led our company into Laketown, meaning that there was business to be done.

“My people may be overjoyed to hear that the King Under the Mountain has returned to defeat the beast and reclaim his gold, thus bringing trade and prosperity back to these lonely parts, but we all know that it won't be so simple as that." The man said once we had seated ourselves in his hall, his mask of friendly geniality disappearing to reveal the sharp mind hidden underneath. Seeing this I had to wonder if our company might have met its match in him, because the Master obviously did not believe any of Thorin's bullshit, including the delusions of an easy battle that my uncle told himself.

Truthfully I was rather glad that it was not my job to speak because while I could keep secrets with the best of them, I had little talent for diplomacy. No talent and no patience for the lessons which my older relatives had tried to shove into my head. But where I would have fallen back on bluntness and spoken the hard truth plain, Thorin started making promises instead. He swore that we would pay Laketown for its trouble and that we had an actual plan to defeat the dragon by ourselves.

 _Pretty words indeed, but what will happen if we fail to keep these vows?_ I wondered, watching the two of them spar back and forth. While the Master seemed pleased with uncle's promises at the moment, his anger when we broke them would be terrible and could we truly blame men for their greed when Thorin was dangling gold before their eyes?

Technically, none of this would be my problem since my duty would end the moment the dragon fell and I would not be here when any blood was spilled. For if we succeeded in our quest, I would be returning with my hobbit to the Shire, whether banished or not, and if we failed, I would be dead.

Yet I still worried about what our clan would face without me because I did not want my family to lose all that we might gain. If we managed to reclaim Erebor, I wanted to know that she would prosper and I couldn't see how this would be possible if uncle persisted in making enemies everywhere he went. Fíli was no help either for I could see in his eyes that he agreed with Thorin's actions, and it's not as though he would take advice from me right now.

But maybe I was simply seeing trouble where none was present, because what did I truly know of how a kingdom should be ruled? I was only the spare and a reluctant one at that, so why couldn't I force myself to trust in my uncle's long experience instead? Certainly the Master seemed pleased with us at the moment, ending the discussion with a cheerful offer of hospitality.

“My dear friend here will show you to a house where you can stay while you are with us.” The man said, waving the archer forward to lead us from the room, and my skin crawled slightly at his sycophantic tone, “You should be able to find everything you need in our markets but if there is something special that we can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.”

However, Thorin just nodded as though this fawning was our due and then followed the guard onto the street.

\---

“This is a fine city you have here,” I said as I moved to the archer's side, trying to ignore the way that crowds of men stared as we walked by. While this had been a common reaction in villages in the West, I had rather hoped that Erebor would be different but it seemed that this was not the case.

Though to be fair, men age must faster than my people so who knew how many generations had passed since the mountain fell and dwarves lived in these parts? At least this man seemed to take our company in stride, walking along with the air of one entirely at peace with his place in the world and I couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of his surety.

“My family has been here from the beginning,” The archer told me proudly before beginning an impromptu history lesson as he pointed out the major buildings and platforms that made up Laketown's bones. “My great-grandfather was just a child when the dragon came and he grew up along with this city, helping the remnants of our people find a sanctuary here. Though I'm sure you have lived a similar story yourself, given that your clan once held Erebor.”

“I may be older than I look, but not by that much,” I replied with a laugh. “Smaug attacked many years before I was born so I grew up in the West country, even if I was raised on tales of the Lonely Mountain from the time that I was small. Kíli son of Jilí at your service.”

“Bard the Bowman, at yours,” The man introduced himself in turn, before adding with a grin. “I'm sure you can figure out why they call me that.”

“Yes, I think I can. That is a truly lovely weapon that you have there and well-kept for its age; an heirloom isn't it?” I observed, letting some of my admiration seep into my voice.

“You do know your bows, Master Kíli,” Bard said with a hint of surprise and I could tell that I had impressed him with my words. “This yew bow dates back to the days of Erebor along with the Black Arrow in my quiver and was used by my great-great-grandfather Girion for many years. When he perished in Smaug's onslaught, his wife saved his weapon and we have passed it down through the generations ever since. So I received this bow on my father's deathbed, just as I will entrust it to my son when I die.”

Here was a man who saw the honor in his history without letting it control him, something which my brother and I could both stand to learn: me for the pride and he for the freedom. Not that Fíli seemed to be paying attention to the emotional nuances of our conversation, too busy cataloging the weaknesses he saw.

My family had never understood why people would talk to me so readily while spurning uncle's more interrogative questions and my brother had asked me to teach him the trick of it more than once before. But I couldn't for he would never believe me when I explained that there was no trick at all. People told me about their lives because I was honestly interested in what they had to say and if I happened to pick up some useful information, that was just a silver lining on a rich vein of ore.

Though I must admit that I was mining slightly when I asked, “Girion? You mean Lord Girion of Dale? Then shouldn't you be the Master here?”

Bard laughed awkwardly and I could see that I had hit on a political tangle by the way the man glanced furtively around. “Yes, that Girion, last king of our people. However, his son was too young to rule when Smaug razed the city and the Masters of Laketown have led us well. So while I do dream of avenging my ancestor's death someday, I am perfectly content with my position as the Captain of the Guard.”

Although some of his protestations might have been for show, I actually believed him because this was a man who cared more about his people's welfare than the glory of his name. His humility was also visible in his discomfort for in my limited experience, the truly great were the ones who never boasted and I allowed Bard to change the subject without a fight. I had already learned enough to avoid tripping over this pitfall in casual conversation and a bit more local gossip wasn't worth the risk of antagonizing our guide.

Besides, I was curious about Laketown's defenses and this was a topic on which the archer was happy to expound. By the time he had finished explaining how the causeway could be cut loose to strand any attackers, the man had relaxed again and I figured this was a good time to ask the question that was really on my mind.

“So where do you go for target practice around here? I would love to see your bow in action some time.” I said, the words as much truth as flattery, and Bard's eyes lit up at the thought.

“I am honored by your interest and do not think I failed to notice that you carry a bow as well. Truly I have never seen one carved in that style and I must ask you where you found it; I did not think your people worked in wood.”

This was a common misconception among the other races, who seemed to believe that dwarves cared nothing for the world outside our mines. Though in their defense, metal was the only song of most dwarven hearts. But not mine and as I was rather proud of my work, I could not let this assumption stand.

“We may be known for our blades but my people are masters of many crafts. This bow is actually my own design; the difference in curve offsets its shortness and I would wager that I have the power to match even that tall beauty of yours.” I told him, not bothering to hide my pride in my creation. It had taken me nearly a decade to properly adapt the design to my specifications and here at last was someone who might appreciate my skill.

“Now that I would give a great deal to see,” Bard replied, eyeing my bow with a speculative glance. While he obviously believed in the superiority of his weapon, _as is his right_ , no true archer could resist the chance to try their hand and he seemed honestly regretful when he continued.  
“Unfortunately, we have to return to shore in order to shoot at a proper distance so I doubt there will be time to test our skills before you leave. Perhaps once the dragon is defeated and our kingdoms stand retaken, then you will have the chance to prove your claim.”

“I will hold you to that promise,” I told him when we finally arrived at our destination, a well-built house near the edge of the town. It was nicer than most of the places that my family had lived in on the road which meant that the Master must be taking my uncle at his word.

However, I was far more interested in what was inside the house than what it meant politically and as I waved farewell to Bard, my mind was already turning to a different sort of plan. Because the rooms had beds and doors that locked and this was my opportunity to finally see Bilbo without all those layers on.

Unfortunately, tonight was not looking good for I had promised Fíli that no one would discover my secret and there were too many risks with the whole company around. I needed a time when the house would be empty and our absence go unnoticed, a time when stray noises would not be overheard.

 _Though if not for my oath, I would drag my hobbit off right now,_ I thought, sending my brother a sullen glance. There was no guarantee that anyone else would care despite what Fíli thought and even if they did, the life debt bound their hands from retaliation. I could deal with being ostracized if it meant I could kiss Bilbo whenever I pleased and if we somehow succeeded in this mad quest, I rather thought our people would forgive far worse things than love.

But I had sworn and so I stayed where I was seated, emptying the hidden pockets in my tunic at uncle Thorin's command. While my hoarding tending more toward practical items and thus I didn't have nearly as much wealth stashed away as some of my companions, one always needed a few gems and coins for emergencies.

For packs had a habit of going missing when you lacked a secure place to call your own and no one wanted to be left unprepared on the road. So I had learned to carry the necessities on my person, as had my companions, and Bilbo's eyes widened with every new handful of gold that spilled across the wood.

By the time everyone was finished, there was a significant pile of wealth on the table and Thorin nodded smugly at the sight. While not a fortune by Western standards, this town had probably been generations without properly forged coinage so we should be able to leave the city with all our debts repaid. Whether this would make the Master more willing to forgive my uncle's implications remained to be seen, but at least we would not have to storm the mountain in our underwear.

Because right now our company lacked everything: weapons, armor, food and even proper clothing, all of which had been left behind within the elf king's hall. Truly the list was rather disheartening and I could only hope that the markets of Laketown would be large enough to serve our needs.

However, the search for supplies would have to wait until tomorrow because the sun was near to setting and we were all exhausted from our recent ordeal. So when Thorin ordered us to get some rest, no one argued and I managed to snag a room for myself and Bilbo without complaint. Indeed there were enough chambers that most of the other dwarves didn't seem to notice my choice of lodgings, though Bofur did give me a speculative glance as we walked by.

A little forethought had made Óin our only neighbor, so I felt comfortable enough to draw my hobbit into a kiss as soon as we were out of sight. Bilbo leaned into me with a smile, his hands a warm pressure on my hips, and it was terribly hard to pull away.

But while we could have stroked each other to completion as we had before, I wanted to do things right this time. I wanted to take this chance to explore my hobbit from head to toe, find every spot that made him shudder and truly show Bilbo all the love I held inside. So I forced myself to wait, somehow finding the strength to resist the temptation of those plump lips and ready the bed.

Though built to hold only one man, the mattress fit us with room to spare and I wanted to revel in the softness beneath my skin. Compared to the dirt and stone we had been sleeping on, this was the height of luxury and Bilbo tucked his head into my shoulder with a contented sigh.

“I could get used to this,” He murmured and I would have given up everything I owned to grant him what he wished. For this was all I wanted as well, warmth and love and understanding, and whatever pain lay in my future, these moments were worth the cost.

So I pressed another kiss to my hobbit's hair, wrapping one arm around his back as he cuddled against my side and I fell asleep to the beating of his heart.

We were woken bright and early the next morning, Thorin giving us our marching order as he divided up our stash of gold. Along with Ori and Bilbo, I was to talk with the tailors to ensure that everyone had actual clothes to wear and could stop walking around town in our undertunics. For although the men either hadn't recognized our lack of dress or had been too polite to mention it, dwarves always wore layers and I felt half-naked without the proper surcoats on.

So as soon as uncle handed us our share, I threw my arms around my companions and pushed them onto the street, not bothering to wait until the remaining jobs were sorted.

Uncle could not have given me a more perfect pair if he had tried, for I was always happy to spend more time with my hobbit and Ori was still the sweetest dwarf around. Though it took him a little while to lose the awe of Bilbo's latest rescue, when he finally relaxed, the two of them began to swap handicraft techniques as we walked along. In fact the conversation was soon far above my head, for Ori had been knitting for as long as I had known him and Bilbo was a fair hand with crochet. However, I was happy just to listen to them and it was a lovely stroll over the wooden platforms of Laketown now that the crowds from yesterday were gone.

Which was good considering that the tailors were located across the city and the walk took quite some time. But it was such a nice morning that none of us minded the distance and I was almost sad when we finally reached our goal. Though at least the seamstresses were overjoyed to see us so my disappointment was quickly overwhelmed by fabric swatches.

 _People here must not buy very many clothes,_ I thought with bemusement as I explained what we needed to an ever more excited bunch. _Though I suppose that makes sense in a small place like this; we're obviously not the only ones who would benefit from the restoration of Erebor._

Between the two of us, Ori knew most of the company's measurements well enough to get the tailors started and I had Thorin and Fíli down from years of helping mother mend. So with our tunics as a template, all we needed to do was to pick out the fabrics and despite the lack of outside trade, Laketown had enough of a selection that even uncle should feel properly dressed.

Once the tailors had a general idea of what we required, I took my hobbit aside to find him some new attire as well. While Bilbo's wardrobe had survived a little better than the others, his once fine fabric was practically in tatters and I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to clothe him as I wished. So after asking his permission, I had the tailors measure my hobbit for a proper dwarven tunic, only a few shades lighter than uncle's royal blue.

The rest of the company would see this as a sign of Thorin's favor but Fíli and I would know the truth and something in me thrilled at the thought of showing my love in this way. For if I could not tell the world to whom Bilbo was promised, at least they would see that he was part of this company as he deserved.

“Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” My hobbit whispered with a wink when the tailor was called away and we had a moment to ourselves. “But I'll let you have your way right now if I can do the same when you come home with me. I can't wait to see you in a true Shire waistcoat; you'll be the talk of the town for more than your tiny little feet.”

“Hey now. That's going a bit far, don't you think?” I asked, poking him gently in the side. “Dwarves aren't meant to wear vests and you know it. I honestly don't understand how you make them look so good.”

“Practice love, practice.” Bilbo replied, holding his arms out for the tailor once again. “But are you sure you're going to be able to keep your hands to yourself once we're done?”

Although I promised him that I would control myself, it was difficult to resist the sight of my hobbit when the tailor had completed his work. The deep blue of Bilbo's tunic made his eyes sparkle like gemstones and the sight of him in the dress of my clan was even better than I had thought. But after my hobbit had swatted my hands away a time or two, I forced myself to keep my distance and went back to helping Ori with his plans.

When my friend had finally finished speaking with the tailors, every member of our company was due for two complete sets of clothing and the men swore that they would be ready to fit the others by this afternoon. This seemed like a rather large task for them to handle, but they seemed confident in their abilities and it's not as though they had a great deal of other work. So we decided to trust their estimation and went back to see how the rest of our company had done.

Bilbo drew admiring stares when we walked in with our new clothing and I had to smile at the startled expression on Fíli's face. _Never thought he could look that good, did you brother?_   I thought proudly, sending him a smug glance from which he could only look away.

Though despite his other problems, my brother had completed uncle's task, finding us serviceable armor with which we could fight. Actually every member of our company had managed remarkably well and for the first time since the Misty Mountains, our packs were fully stocked. The one disappointment was in the selection of weapons because I could tell that dwarven smiths had not been in these parts for many years and the rest had not been so lucky in the Mirkwood as I.

Still Thorin had done the best he could and its not as though the swords that the elf king had stolen could have stood against Smaug anyway. Truly my doubts about this quest were only getting stronger with every step we took toward Erebor and if uncle didn't have a clever plan to defeat the dragon, then quite frankly we were fucked.

However, we would still do our best to be prepared and so the company spent the afternoon packing our new supplies until the tailors and armorers dropped by. As the men had promised, everything was ready for our fittings and with a score of hands operating together, they finished while the evening was still young.

The rapidness of their work put my uncle in a pleasant mood and he declared that our company could take the rest of the night off. So being dwarves, we decided to find ourselves a tavern and sample the local brews.

\---

Bard had pointed out a number of fine places when showing us to our residence and I led the group to the largest one in town. The owner watched with wide eyes as the fourteen members of our company strode through the door as though we owned it, Thorin calling out for mugs of ale.

A short time later, we were sprawled around a mass of tables with drinks in hand and I threw an arm across Bilbo's shoulders with a grin. The barkeep kept the liquor flowing freely at our demand and we were in the mood to party, so it didn't take long for us dwarves to become a little sloshed. My hobbit was the only sensible one, sipping at his mug slowly while the others slammed them back, and once I had gained a nice buzz, I started to do the same.

As the evening continued, I was rather glad to be no more than tipsy for my companions turned out to be highly entertaining when drunk out of their minds. Because Nori apparently had a thing for dirty limericks and Dwalin liked to egg him on, while Bofur had the bright idea to start building a castle from our flagons as each was drained. We had already created quite a pile by the time the dwarf began and the structure grew quickly, for his hands were remarkably steady given what he had consumed.

Our antics were also gaining an audience as word of our location spread around the town and it wasn't long before Bard and his guardsmen walked through the door. By then Bofur had almost finished his masterpiece, complete with walls, tower and a bailey, and he was standing on the table to add the last few mugs when he nearly fell into the gate.

I managed to grab the other dwarf before he ruined all his work, though only Ori's quick catch managed to save his ale. However, Bofur wasn't about to give up now so after looking around the room, his eyes landed on the tallest man around.

"Bard, Bard the Bowman.” Our friend called out, gesturing wildly with the flagons in his hands. “Come over here and help me out will you?"

"What can I do for you master dwarf?" The archer asked genially, walking over to stand by our company. He had barely managed to finish the question before Bofur shoved the final mugs into his chest and pointed toward a chair, asking the man to put his height to good use.

When Bard assented, the entire tavern cheered wildly and I held my breath in anticipation as the bowman stood up on his toes to place the final mug. But somehow the towering structure held stable, and we were about to toast Bofur's creation when Nori ruined it all.

He hardly meant to of course, but a few too many ales had taken their hold and the dwarf tripped over nothing on his way back from the bar. Arms flailing helplessly, Nori slammed into the table and the castle quickly collapsed into a rain of mugs flying through the air. Bilbo gave a high pitched yelp when one nearly brained him, diving under the table for safety as he berated our companion for his carelessness. So everyone laughed heartily at the affronted look upon my hobbit's face as I pulled him back to his feet and now that the danger was past, the men of Laketown came over to say hello.

They were still a bit wary of our differences but Bard had paved the way and Bofur's antics certainly helped to make us seem approachable. Besides Balin could never resist an audience and when he began to spin salacious tales of myth and history, the men finally relaxed.

So our groups began to intermingle properly while Bard and I continued our earlier conversation in a muddle of shooting tips, architecture and boasting, the Bowman expounding on his young son's skill and his wife's fine embroidery. As we talked, Bilbo listened on with interest for he was fascinated by the cultures of other races and had a hundred questions about how Lakemen spent their lives.

 _Well at least he's not pining over Rivendell anymore,_ I mused happily as several of the men began singing, raising their mugs in a raunchy drinking song.

 

"Oh when I was a little lad my honest mother told me,  
That if I didn't kiss the girls my lips would grow all moldy,  
So I chased the bonny lasses round and caught one to be my wife  
And now when I go kiss the girls she pulls out a bloody knife"

When they finished this rendition, the guards lifted their mugs in challenge and our company could hardly back down from that, not when creating such verses was practically an art-form in our clan. So we raised our voices high and sang in response:

 

"The legends say that dwarves are born from air and rock and stone  
For whenever we go traveling we leave your wives alone  
But it's the beards we think are lacking on your ladies tall and fair  
We're not used to seeing women who have quite so little hair"

This rhyme was met with raucous laughter and the tavern quickly descended into a contest of dirty lyrics tossed back and forth. I joined in the first few verses, throwing out every filthy suggestion that my hobbit whispered to me, before letting the others step to the fore.

 _Looks like everyone is going to be here for hours..._ I thought to myself muzzily, before sitting bolt upright as I realized that **everyone** was going to be **here** for **hours**.

This was obviously the opportunity for which I had been waiting and I had absolutely no intention of wasting it. So I grabbed Dori to replace me in conversation, not that the drunken Bard actually noticed the exchange, and then took my hobbit by the arm.

“Let's get out of here,” I whispered to him with a wink and Bilbo was only too happy to oblige. I was drunk enough that it was difficult to keep my hands to myself as we slipped out of the tavern and by the time we returned to our borrowed house, I couldn't resist the urge anymore. So I kissed my love right there in the entryway, using my body to press him hard against the wall.

After necking for a moment, we began to stumble up the stairs, lips locked together in a slick embrace. We nearly toppled over several times before we finally reached the landing, but letting go of Bilbo was inconceivable when he was making such lovely sounds.

My hobbit was moaning into my mouth, tongues flicking out to tangle with each other and I could not bear to spend another moment without skin. So I worked my hand underneath his tunic, sliding up the soft curve of his belly to trace across his chest. When I ran across his nipple with my thumb, Bilbo arched toward me with a gasp, grinding his half-hard cock into my thigh. Of course I gave him what he wanted, rolling that hard nub between my fingers and shoving my leg up higher until his head slammed back against the wall.

With this motion, the taut line of his neck became irresistible and I licked my way across that pale expanse. He shuddered again when I nipped at his jaw, whispering sweet nothings against his skin and savoring the taste which I found there. Then I bent my head against to suck a mark into his shoulder as one of Bilbo's hands buried itself in my hair.

My love held me to him, clawing at my back with every soft press of lips and it was my turn to moan when he dug his nails into my scalp. Soon we were grinding together, both groaning with every roll of my hips and I was starting to forget why making it to a bed had seemed so important.

Until we were interrupted by someone yelling furiously, "What are you doing? Are you crazy? Someone could see you!" and I lifted my head to see Fíli staring at us in horror.

Bilbo squeaked adorably at the interruption but I held onto him tightly, refusing to back down from my brother now. Not when I was drunk and horny and had one thing on my mind. "There's no one here but you, Fíli, and the rest won't be back for hours. We have plenty of time to do what we want with none the wiser."

However my words only seemed to make my brother angrier and he began shouting about his pride again, running over the same tired arguments that he had given me before. "You swore to me! You promised that none would discover your disgrace and this is how you plan to keep that vow? Parading your dishonor in the halls for all to see."

"You and your dishonor. I swear you care more about my reputation than I do, but I know, I know, _I'd hurt the family name_." I replied bitterly, having had quite enough of my brother's disgusted glares.

 _Why can't he just leave us alone? I know he hates me now but would it kill him to give us this? What with how we might be about to die and all._ "You realize that if we kill Smaug, I could keep a harem of elves and the songs would still sing our praises until the light finally fades from the world? But yes, I remember my promise that no one would know. And no one will, because if you would just leave us be then we'd be done before they return, and even if we weren't do you honestly think any of them would notice, drunk out of their minds?"

Fíli was struck speechless by my acerbic words, _still surprised when I won't bend to your whims?_   So as he stood there spluttering, I returned to kissing my hobbit, Bilbo moaning filthily beneath my roaming hands. But of course, my brother couldn't just leave things at that and interrupted us once more with a shouted, "Mahal's fury, do you have to do that in front of me?"

"Well you could leave, and then you wouldn't have to see anything would you?" I bit out snidely, thoroughly sick of these delays. Yet to my surprise my brother winced beneath my words and when he spoke again, he seemed subdued.

“At least go in your room, will you? In case one of the others comes back." Fíli said in surrender, reaching over to shove open my door. Though I didn't really understand the reason for his capitulation given that he still looked just as disgusted as before, I was hardly going to argue now. So I pulled Bilbo through the opening and slammed the door shut behind me, locking it and then shouting, "Now go away!"

“You know he's still out there right?” My hobbit whispered, looking vaguely uncomfortable when I leaned in once more.

“Of course he is, but just ignore him until he goes away,” I replied, pulling Bilbo toward the mattress. “I doubt he'll hold out long and tonight is about you and me.”

“I suppose that's true,” He answered seriously before giving me a wicked smile and pushing me to sit back on the bed. “Which means that it's my turn to have some fun.”

My hobbit waited only until my knees had hit the mattress before sinking down onto my lap, his arms twining around my neck to pull me into another kiss. It felt as though he were trying to devour me, tongue delving deep into my mouth as he ground our hips together. By now my length was hard as iron, every motion a burning line of pleasure and I sighed gratefully when Bilbo finally worked a hand between us.

His small fingers slipped into my trousers with ease, encircling my cock firmly and I had to bury my face in his shoulder when he began to stroke up and down. It seemed only fair to return to favor but before I could reach skin, my hobbit pressed me down to lay upon the bed.

“Stay,” He ordered and I did as asked, though I couldn't resist the urge to trace my fingers along the fine bones of his hips. Still the view was worth it as Bilbo sat up to draw his tunic over his head, the blue fabric sliding ever so slowly across his skin. He was pale and soft, with hardly any scars and a hint of chubbiness which was adorable. In short, he was nothing like the dwarves whom I had bedded and my hobbit flushed slightly beneath my hungry gaze.

 _Valar, the things I want to do to you,_ I thought as Bilbo brought our mouths together again, my lover squirming as I ran my hands down his back. For a moment I teased him, tracing my fingers along the dimples in skin before shoving them into his trousers to grab his ass. My hobbit fit perfectly into my grip, each cheek round and firm beneath my touch, and his breath caught when I gave a gentle squeeze.

Then I shoved his clothes down farther and pulled him hard against me, his flushed cock trailing a wet line down my stomach. Bilbo groaned my name, panting against my neck as I rolled our hips together, before sinking his teeth into my skin.

The bite sent fire sizzling through my nerves and my head fell back against the mattress, allowing my love to gain the upper hand once more. He sat up, thighs gripping me tightly as he practically tore the shirt from my shoulders before leaning down to nip at everything that he could reach. My hobbit seemed particularly focused of my scars, lathing the raised lines with a tenderness which made me shudder and bites that made me swear.

That hint of pain and possessiveness was everything I wanted and I knew that I was babbling by the time he reached my waist. “Fuck, Bilbo, come on. Own me, make me scream with it, ride me into the ground,” I gasped as he untied my laces and released my throbbing cock into the air.

But the damn tease only licked me once from root to tip before moving downward, pressing soft kisses into the inside of my thigh. When I moaned in frustration, reaching out to tangle one hand into his hair, my hobbit just looked up at me with a smirk. His eyes were dark with lust, lashes lowered coyly and his tongue left wet streaks upon his lips.

That sight left me burning so I dragged him up to taste him, licking my way into his mouth without mercy or relent. I held his head in place while I pressed in deep, Bilbo opening to me easily while my other hand fumbled toward the table by the bed. I had left my weapons there, strewn across the wood, and it took me a moment to find what I sought. But when that small jar of oil finally fell into my grasping fingers, I drew it to me even as I urged my hobbit up the bed.

He was confused by what I wanted and I was too far gone to be coherent, so I simply pulled him forward until he was straddling my chest. Now I could reach that lovely ass again but what truly caught my eye was Bilbo's length, flushed and gorgeous and jutting out proudly, and I bent my head to take his cock between my lips.

“Oh my lord, Kíli,” he gasped as I teased my tongue across his slit, savoring the slightly bitter taste it left behind. Then I took him in deeper even as I trailed slick fingers down the cleft of his ass and circled his entrance, the tight ring fluttering with every touch.

Bilbo couldn't seem to decide whether to thrust forward or back as I slipped one digit inside him, mirroring the motion with my mouth. So I choked for a moment when his hips stuttered and his cock jabbed into my throat, but after a shift of angle he slid smoothly on. His length was a good size and my jaw was stretched wide by the time I had swallowed him down, but the sight of my hobbit's face flushed red with pleasure was worth the ache.

I gave a little hum of satisfaction, my love shuddering again and digging his nails into my shoulders when I drove two slick fingers into his entrance as far as I could reach. I began to bob my head in time with my thrusts, alternating the rhythm so that Bilbo had no time to recover his control. There was only the wet heat of my mouth surrounding him and my fingers working him open for my cock.

But it had been awhile since I had been in this position and my neck was starting to ache from the strain, so I pulled my hobbit higher up my chest and nudged him to take over. He braced his hands against the wall for leverage and I let him use my mouth as he began to thrust in earnest.

No matter how much I loved taking my lovers apart, there was something about laying back and being used that drove me wild in a different way. To see Bilbo losing control, his only thought seeking his own pleasure in my flesh, made my cock ache for friction of its own. However, my hands had been busy, three fingers now driving into my hobbit's entrance and I knew I'd found my goal when his body jerked taut above me.

 _How could the Valar hate those with our inclinations when Mahal gave us this?_ I mused, teasing at the soft spot within my lover until he'd lost the strength to thrust. Bilbo was shaking now, gasping every time I ran my thumb around his entrance, feeling how the ring was stretched around my hand.

Yet he was much smaller than any of my previous lovers and I did not wish to hurt him, so I groped for the oil one more time. When four fingers began to press into his ass, my tongue still teasing along the vein of his cock, my hobbit finally couldn't take anymore. With a choked scream, Bilbo shoved back, driving my hand in past the second knuckle as his seed spilled into my mouth.

Then he collapsed onto my chest, hole clenching tight around my fingers while he panted my name. I drew my hand out slowly, every movement making my hobbit whine, before I rolled him over carefully onto his back.

“Bilbo, can I?” I murmured, nudging my length against his hip as I leaned in to kiss him again and let my love taste his gift upon my tongue. Although he was practically boneless beneath me, my hobbit found the strength to wrap one arm around my neck and pull me closer, whispering his assent into my mouth.

So I shifted over until I could press my aching cock against his entrance, lifting one of his legs to wrap around my hip. Then I pushed forward, forcing myself to go slowly no matter how much I wanted to simply pound away. Because Bilbo was still so tight, his inner walls clinging to me like a glove as I pressed inside. Eventually I bottomed out, my stones nudging against his ass and I swallowed his whimpers with my tongue.

“Relax love,” I whispered, rolling my hips gently as I waited for him to adjust. “You can feel it, can't you? How I'm so very deep inside you? My cock is filling empty places you never knew you had and no one else will ever compare. You're mine now, mine as long as we both live, and you'll need this soon enough. It hurts right now but soon you'll crave it, you'll beg for me to fill you again and I'll be only too happy to oblige. Because I want to drive in deeper than you've ever known, make us one in body as well as heart. I'm going to claim you, split you upon my length until you scream my name in joy.”

But finally my hobbit began to loosen around me and I could begin to move as his winces became moans. Though I kept my thrusts long and slow at first, making him feel every inch when I pressed relentlessly inside. However, as Bilbo relaxed further I picked up speed until both of us were seeing stars with every stroke.

My hobbit babbled encouragement against my ear, hands clutching at my shoulders to pull me in deeper and there was nothing so enticing as the noise he made when I found his sweet spot again. By this point his legs were wrapped around me tightly and his cock hard once more, every motion making it drag across my skin. Bilbo was truly irresistible like this, face flushed and eyes half-lidded with pleasure, broken moans spilling from his mouth. Though when he reached down to tug at his length, I swatted his hand away.

“No, you'll release from me or not at all,” I growled against his throat, holding his arm above his head as I thrust in harder. “Because I know you can, I know you're aching for it already, every thrust making you want to scream. The pleasure is coiling within your gut and you're going to show me how much you need my cock inside you. You're going to show me how much you want me to fuck you raw.

Beg for me darling. Beg loud enough that my brother can hear you, that everyone could hear you if they were there. You want them to know, don't you? I want them to know how good I make you feel and remember what they'll never have again. So you're going to do this for me because I can stay like this for hours until you give me what I want. Would you like that? For me to keep you on the edge until morning, until you're gasping and trembling on my cock and you want nothing more than to find release. Until every stroke is as much pain as pleasure and you're gagging for it like the slut you are. Would you let me carry you outside like that, throw you down across the table and fuck you hard for everyone to see? Let them watch but never touch because you belong to me.”

While I would never do any of this, the fantasy made my blood boil and Bilbo clenched tighter around me with every word. He was so close now, caught upon the brink of ecstasy, and I leaned down to nip at his ear. I had discovered their sensitivity early on, how touching them was guaranteed to make my hobbit crumble, so now I curled my tongue around the point.

With a gasp this sent him over the edge again, his back arching as he finally screamed for me and I rode out the waves of his pleasure until I could breath again. When Bilbo collapsed back against the bed, I began to chase my own release, gripping his hips tightly to thrust in as far as I could go.

My hobbit was soft and pliant beneath me and it didn't take long before I was spilling my seed within him, every nerve singing as white light burst behind my eyes. Then it was my turn to slump forward, panting into my lover's shoulder while I tried to regain control. Eventually I found the energy to pull out, the drag of oversensitive skin making both of us groan, and I flopped down beside him with a sigh.

“We should probably clean up or we're going to be disgusting in the morning,” I said after a moment, trying to convince myself to move, but Bilbo just grunted next to me.

“Later,” He ordered, throwing one arm around my waist and tucking his head against my neck. The sight was so adorable that I couldn't being myself to move him, instead pulling him in closer and trying to ignore the wet spot beneath my hip. I was tired enough that this wasn't too difficult and soon enough I drifted off into pleasant dreams.

\---

I woke content, my hobbit draped across my chest in a boneless sprawl and a pleasant ache in muscles I hadn't used in weeks. Bilbo was still asleep, face soft in repose, and I wanted nothing more than to kiss those soft lips. Wake him with a kiss as I slipped back inside him, his body welcoming me home.

But I could hear groaning through the walls of our room and we were still covered in the fruits of last night's entertainment. While I doubted any of our company would rise very early considering how much they had consumed, I couldn't risk running into one of them before we'd gotten clean. So I nudged my hobbit awake despite his protests, stripping the dirty cloths from the bed and wrapping them around us like cloaks.

Then I ushered Bilbo down the stairs, keeping an eye out for any watchers along the way. But thankfully the halls were empty, the company laying abed as I had hoped, and we made it to our destination without running into anyone.

One convenient thing about Laketown was the excess of water and unlike most villages I'd seen, there was a washroom attached to the side of nearly every house. Once there I stripped quickly, tossing my sheet into a wooden laundry basin and then pouring a bucket of water over my head. I felt somewhat bad about leaving it there for someone else to clean, but we needed to move quickly and a soak would probably do it good.

So I focused on scrubbing the dried flakes off my skin and although Bilbo complained a bit about the icy nature of the water when he began to wash himself down, I managed to warm him up well enough. We returned to the house a while later, hair damp and smiles on our faces, shoving the door open in time to see the first of our companions stagger from their rooms.

It took us ages to leave that morning for everyone had overdone it and even Thorin wasn't moving very fast. But while Dwalin broke into periodic fits of swearing every time he bumped his aching head and Fíli refused to look in my direction, our company eventually hit the road again.

The Master of Laketown met us at the causeway to say farewell, he and uncle trading tight-lipped pleasantries while the rest of us tuned them out. Truthfully most of the others were too busy wincing at the sunlight to pay any attention, though everyone perked up a bit when Bard stopped by as well. He must have made a lot of friends last night since he greeted half our company by name, but I think I was still his favorite, fellow archers as we were, because Bard clapped me on the back and swore that we'd have our contest when next we'd meet.

Then Thorin led our company back to shore and onward toward the mountain. It was another lovely morning, if almost afternoon, and as much as I dreaded what might be coming, it was hard to feel too distressed beneath that brilliant sun.

Soon Bofur started singing and the brothers Ri joined in, each trying to come up with the most ridiculous verses about how Smaug would die. But their cheerful music cut off sharply when we crested the ridge east of Esgaroth and the plains of Erebor stretched before our eyes. For what was once lush fields of grass and flowers had been burnt black by dragon fire, a poisoned circle stretching out from the Lonely Mountain's base.

There was nothing: no plants, no animals, not even insects to buzz around your ears and I had never seen such endless death as this. Even in the rocky heights of the Misty Mountains life had managed to find a way, yet here the dragon's shadow fell upon us all.

 _Desolation indeed,_ I thought, shifting closer to my hobbit and the hopelessness within me was mirrored on the faces of my companions. But not on Thorin who must have taken this destruction as a challenge because a terrible fury ignited in his eyes and I could have sworn that they were shining with a fell golden light. For it seemed that I was right and it was not love which drove him, it was vengeance against the creature that dared to take our people's lives.

Yet while this change filled me with foreboding and I exchanged wary glances with my hobbit, the other members of our company watched their king in awe. His rage swept through them like wildfire, those warriors who had fought and bled for our kingdom now burning with the same need to avenge it loss.

All I could do was watch as even my brother fell under this strange euphoria and twelve dwarves marched gleefully toward their doom. Bilbo and I were the only ones unaffected and we hurried along with them, unwilling to let the others leave my sight while some dark power controlled their minds.

For this was worse than any simple greed or fury that I had ever seen; this was vengeance twisted into madness and nothing that I tried broke the spell. So Thorin drove us onward, our company marching through the day and long into the night, only allowing us to rest when his legs gave out. Though despite the way my skin was crawling, some of his urgency was justified because Durin's Day was drawing nearer as every moment passed.

I did not want to think about what would happen if we missed this deadline for I doubted that my uncle would be willing to wait another year. He would be more likely to stand by the gate and challenge the dragon to a duel, refusing to leave until the beast awoke and killed us all.

So I discussed the matter with Bilbo after the rest of the company had passed out from exhaustion and we decided that the best thing we could do was continue with the plan. Help my uncle find the door and if the dragon still lived, pray that Smaug's defeat would free their minds. There was nothing else to be done while my oath still bound me, and I could only be grateful that my hobbit understood. Understood and supported me in what I had to do.

We went to sleep then, managing only a few hours before uncle roared everyone awake and dragged us back on the road. Indeed his mania only increased the closer that we came to Erebor and as the first light of Durin's Day crept over the horizon, our company finally reached the Lonely Mountain's base.

Thorin ordered us to make camp quickly before sending everyone out to search, though of course the whole idea of a secret entrance was that it was hard to find. Indeed, despite Nori's observation that the door must be somewhere on the west face of the mountain, the task that faced us seemed nearly insurmountable. How were we supposed to discover the correct grey stone amidst the many when there was nothing but grey as far as I could see?

But just as my hopes were failing completely, Bilbo found us a miracle. Somehow his keen ears heard the thrush when all of ours could not and my hobbit ran off down the path, shouting for the company to follow.

We raced after him, my heart beating like thunder as I crested the rise to see a rough alcove in which a small brown bird was perched. The rest of the company fanned out behind us just as evening fell, the sun disappearing in a brilliant burst of scarlet fire and the cold silver moon rising in the sky. Their rays merged and mingled, casting light upon the mountainside and revealing a keyhole in the stone. At the sight uncle leaped forward, pulling Thráin's key from his tunic and slipping it into the lock with a triumphant shout.

Everyone watched with bated breath when Thorin began to turn the key, but it moved easily and with a soft click the way into Erebor slid open. The stone moved to reveal a tunnel stretching into the rock and while the company cheered, I allowed myself to swing my hobbit around once in my arms.

“That was brilliant,” I whispered, smiling down at him softly while the others celebrated, lifting their caps to our success.

“It was just luck,” He replied, dropping his eyes modestly. “If I hadn't heard the thrush, I wouldn't have been any help at all.”

 _Still can't see how magnificent you are, can you?_ I thought with a fond shake of my head. _Saved us all thrice over and you still believe that you're the least important here._ But before I could try to convince him of his worth to us once more, the celebration stopped dead as the mountain trembled and a strange rumbling echoed in the deeps.

This noise was accompanied by a blast of warm air, carrying with it the scent of overheated iron and dragon fire and this woke my companions from their stupor as nothing else had done. The euphoric gleam in their eyes was momentarily overwhelmed by panic at the knowledge that Smaug still lived and even Fíli seemed rather at a loss. But not uncle, he barely faltered before reaching out to grab our burglar's arm.

"Go scout, Bilbo, do the task for which we brought you. Return to us at the camp when you have discovered something useful." Thorin demanded, shoving my hobbit toward the entrance with a growl.

"You can't send him alone," I protested, aghast at his willingness to risk Bilbo's life. My uncle owed him a debt and I had thought that there was some respect between them, but now all of that was gone. Everything was secondary to his vengeance and I had a horrible feeling that Thorin would think nothing of sacrificing the rest of us as well.

For while I had known that my hobbit would be expected to sneak into the mountain, part of me had still been hoping that Smaug was dead and my heart was crying its refusal now. Surely we should take a moment to think up a proper plan instead of throwing Bilbo into the fire without a chance to prepare. Because as amazing as he was, my hobbit would be barely a mouthful for the dragon if he was caught and I could not stand the thought of losing him. "What if something happens and he needs to send word to us? At least let me stay here and keep guard."

But once again my hobbit proved to be braver than I, for he took my hands in his and gently shook his head. “It will be all right, Kíli.” He promised, smiling faintly though I could see the worry in his eyes. “You know that I have some tricks of my own and I'm the only one who may be able to slip beneath the dragon's notice. So go back and wait with the others until I return; I don't want you nearby if everything goes wrong.”

What could I do but let him go, even if it pained me? Even if watching Bilbo walk alone into that mountain was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

Once back in camp, I found myself pacing back and forth, my muscles tight with dread. The longer that my hobbit was gone, the greater my sense of panic and after an hour had passed I was nearly ready to do something insane. However, before I could lose my cool entirely and charge in after Bilbo, our burglar finally strode back down the path.

“I brought your uncle something,” My hobbit told me when I ran over to greet him, patting his pocket with a mischievous grin. “Maybe this will finally make him relax.”

“One can only hope,” I muttered in reply, wrapping my arm around his shoulders as the rest of the company gathered around. Everyone was talking over each other, a score of questions about what Bilbo had seen inside the mountain and he couldn't get a word in edgewise to actually answer anyone.

"What did you find?" Thorin interrupted with a scowl as he shoved his way to the front of our company and glared the cacophony to silence. "What of the dragon?"

"Smaug still sleeps, and he sleeps atop a bed of treasure." My hobbit replied, pulling a large golden cup from his tunic and placing it in my uncle's hands. _That will certainly help to keep him happy._ "But even asleep I saw no way for us to kill him. He is armored with scales thicker than steel and his undersides are crusted with gold and gems. Yet my father always said that every wyrm has a weak spot so if I return again perhaps I can find out more."

This was just like Bilbo, to volunteer himself for more danger in order to help his friends, but that was part of what had drawn me to him from the start. So I escorted him back to the passage, taking this chance to give my lover a quick kiss for luck.

The waiting wasn't any easier the second time and I couldn't understand how the rest of my companions were so calm. Each of them appeared to be in a daze, their former glee replaced with a kind of stupefied exhaustion which worried me. Even our fearless leader just sat there, stroking the cup in his hands as though in a dream, and he seemed more like a stranger than the uncle I had known. Indeed I was starting to wonder if I had been living in an illusion for my brother had already turned out to be a bigot and now Thorin was transforming before my eyes.

But before I could try to speak with my uncle, I heard Bilbo calling us and I turned to see him running toward our camp.

"I found it," He shouted, grabbing my forearms in excitement. "I found Smaug's weak point. There is a patch of scales on his chest as bare as a newborn babe, where one could surely strike his heart. It will be difficult, but I think a skilled enough archer could manage it."

My hobbit smiled at me proudly and my heart warmed as I realized the focus of his thoughts. Bilbo had found a way for me to prove myself to my family, prove that my useless 'hobby' was worth the time I'd spent. _Oh you beautiful creature,_ I thought as our company let out a cheer, because even if I was finally planning to chase the life I'd wanted, this was an old wound that had not healed. I was tired of being overlooked as the strange and wild child, the one Durin who could not live up to his name.

So for all that I was not driven by glory, something in me thrilled to the idea of placing my mark on our people's history before I left. Thus even if my relatives agreed with Fíli, and given the changes in my uncle banishment was looking likely, no one would be able to forget what I had done. They would never be able to look at Erebor without remembering that it was I who claimed it back.

Yet just as our company began to plan our assault on the mountain, I heard a deafening roar and the earth beneath us began to shake again. I looked up to see a burst of fire upon the battlements and Smaug's roar echoed off the stone, "Barrel-riders! Lakemen! Thieves!"

The dragon clawed at the rock in his fury and boulders began to tumble down onto our camp, one narrowly missing Bifur's head. For all my brief dreams of glory, the distance was farther than I could shoot and we were far too unprotected here. Smaug would kill us all before he ever came in range so I had to recognize that I was beaten and I shouted for our company to flee.

So we ran for our lives, dodging the falling rock as the great wyrm leaped into the sky, his enormous scarlet wings blocking out the light. In this strange twilight our company took refuge in the secret passage, Thorin pulling the door shut behind us and we huddled together as the world rained down.

When the shaking finally stopped, the entrance was blocked by a mass of rubble which would have taken days to move.  Not that uncle even acknowledged this option, instead lighting a torch as he ordered Bilbo to scout the treasure room and ensure that Smaug was truly gone.  Despite Thorin's presumptive tone, my hobbit went willingly and when he returned with the news that it was clear, the company traveled onward through the gloom. This time I was sure that my uncle's eyes flashed golden, the sight sending a chill through my body and I stuck closer to my hobbit as we walked.

However, while I worried that my companions had fallen into some evil possession and that we would never be able to defeat the dragon without the advantage of surprise, this was not the thought which consumed my mind. No, all I could think as we moved deeper into the mountain was, _So this is how the dwarves of Erebor return to their homeland. Sneaking in like thieves and cowards in the dark._


	5. Strife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The struggle for Erebor.

Our journey seemed to take forever as the company walked ever deeper into the mountain with only the faint glow of our torches to light the way. There was something strangely chilling about the weight of the stone above us or perhaps it was just the weight of my own fears, for the rest of my companions seemed to breathe easier with every step we took.  
  
Because they were coming home, even those such as Ori and my brother who were born outside this kingdom's walls. They were coming home while I was simply visiting, terrified by the changes which I saw in my kin.  
  
 _Where has this need for vengeance come from?_   I wondered as I padded beside my hobbit in the gloom. _Has it always been there, hidden beneath the masks that we must show the world? Hidden from my eyes just as I had misjudged the strength of Fíli's prejudice. Or is this some new fervor, triggered by the return to Erebor and which I would be feeling if I were a proper dwarf?_  
  
The worst thing about these questions was that I could not be sure if my worries were grounded in reality when only Bilbo seemed to share my unease. While the dragon was a looming threat that could not be ignored, perhaps the fear of failing in this task was making me see shadows where none lived.  
  
Perhaps it was I who was going mad.  
  
\---  
  
However, before I could sink too deep into doubt and depression, our company reached a door at the end of the passage and Bilbo murmured softly, “Smaug's hoard is through there.”  
  
On hearing these words, everyone rushed forward en masse, shoving the slab aside and spilling into the chamber beyond. I followed more sedately, my worries overwhelming any sense of anticipation which I might otherwise have felt, but the sight which greeted us took even my breath away.  
  
For the hall was truly enormous, vaulted ceilings stretching so high above us that our torches could not pierce the gloom. I had not known that our people could build such structures when Ered Luin had been carved on a much smaller scale and every inch of the chamber was filled with gleaming gold. More treasure than I had believed could exist in this world was strewn in towering piles upon the stone: gems, coins, steel and glittering mithril artifacts all thrown together haphazardly and for the first time, I truly understood how wealthy my family had once been.  
  
No wonder uncle had often seemed so angry with our situation, so disgusted with the scraps we had to eat. No wonder mother had always seemed so tired when I was younger, unused to the hard life on the road.  
  
Yet such riches did not come without a cost, the weight of expectation and responsibility which I had so chafed against. Without the dragon I would have grown up in these hallowed chambers, an entire kingdom's worth of dwarves judging my every action and waiting for me to fail. But maybe I would not have minded. Maybe I would have turned out as proud and prejudiced as Fíli, a snotty dwarven princeling in every sense of the word.  
  
Or perhaps my wild spirit would have conquered even this and I would simply have been miserable, as trapped by my position as I had always feared. So as I stared upon the wealth of a kingdom, I offered a prayer of gratitude to Mahal for granting me my hobbit and thus giving me the strength to run.  
  
All I had to do now was survive until the dragon was slain, whether by my arrows or another's hand, and then I would finally be free. Free to chase my own dreams and live for my own desires, with only Bilbo and myself to answer to.  
  
So I decided then that it didn't matter if I had seen a glint of gold in my uncle's eyes and my companions carried some dire madness in their veins. It didn't matter that Smaug might return at any moment because I finally had something worth fighting for and that's exactly what I planned to do. We were going to survive this, me and my hobbit, survive the dragon and my relatives and anything else which fate decided to throw in.  
  
We were **all** going to survive this, each of my companions living to see a brighter day. For while Bilbo was my priority now, I still loved my family and would do everything in my power to make their dreams come true. I would protect those I cared about, even from themselves if necessary, and with this new conviction I strode forward to join the others in the center of the hall.  
  
Despite my fears about his sanity, I was pleased to see that Thorin still had at least some of his wits about him, ordering the company to focus on Smaug for now. The treasure would still be there once we killed him, and if our plans failed then it would hardly matter anyway.  
  
Thus we prepared and we plotted and while this group was not known for being particularly quick to agree on anything, our burglar's information had us in accord for once.  
  
It was I who must strike the monster down while the rest served as distraction, pierce his weak point with my arrows to win our kingdom back. And perhaps if I succeeded, the honor of this deed might serve to counteract the hatred when my secrets came out.  
  
So I stood tense and ready, waiting for my moment as the hours passed.  
  
Yet the dragon did not return. When there was still no sign of Smaug by the next morning, uncle relaxed his vigilance and set the company to cataloging his vast riches in the times we had to spare. It was then that the cracks in Thorin's mind began to show. Because while the other dwarves differed wildly in their need for this shining treasure, from Bofur's near indifference to my brother's fevered lust, our leader was affected worst of all.  
  
It was not the gold which consumed him, though he did watch over it with a possessive gleam in his eyes. No it was the Arkenstone which captured Thorin's every waking moment and ensnared his thoughts. The Heart of the Mountain: the greatest symbol of our kingdom or perhaps its greatest curse.  
  
With every day that passed without the gemstone being found, Thorin became a little more unstable and the tensions within our group wound ever tighter. So it was something of a relief when after three dawns rose without sight of the dragon, uncle declared us victorious at last. Our ancient foe must have fled to richer hills or perished somewhere outside the mountain and in my deepest heart, I breathed a sigh of reprieve.  
  
Our quest was over and while it would soon be time for me to speak the truths I had kept hidden, I wanted to enjoy the celebration first. Indeed the company threw themselves into the festivities with a vengeance, Bombur digging a cask of spirits out from somewhere before his eminent skills turned our supplies into a feast.  
  
Soon everyone was tossing back cups of liquor until their heads were spinning and they gave a hearty cheer when uncle praised my hobbit's skill. While I joined in the toasting, I imbibed far more lightly because I rather hoped that they would drink themselves into a stupor before too long. For now that I knew the taste of my lover, not being able to touch him was driving me to distraction and if I could at least steal a kiss, I would.  
  
Bilbo smiled at me sweetly from where he was sprawled across the mounds of treasure, a flagon of spirits in his hands and his cheeks flushed beautifully when I scooted over to whisper in his ear, “After they all pass out, let's find ourselves a private corner of our own.”  
  
My hobbit nodded his agreement, pressing our shoulders together firmly as he lifted his tankard and joined in Nori's caterwauling song. Thankfully it only took a few more verses before the others began to pass out from the liquor, sprawling back to snore on beds of gold. Dwalin was the last of them to fall, the sturdy warrior well into his cups by then, and when his eyes had been closed for several minutes, I took my lover by the hand.  
  
However, even now one of our company might wake up and that's not how I wanted the truth about our feelings to come out, so I led my hobbit across the coins and gemstones toward one of the side halls. We had nearly reached the entrance, far enough from the rest to begin trading kisses, when Bilbo suddenly tripped over backward on something beneath his feet.  
  
Though I tried to catch him, I was drunk enough to misjudge the distance and my hobbit tumbled down the treasure mound in an avalanche of gold. But he seemed more annoyed than injured when I reached him, spitting jewels from his mouth with a disgusted from.  
  
“Are you all right?” I asked just to be sure as I helped him to sit up.  
  
“Yeah I think so,” Bilbo replied. “Though I'll probably have a few bruises in the morning. Who knew treasure was so hard?”  
  
These complaints made me smile for my hobbit was always one to think of comfort before the rest and I grabbed his hand to pull him to his feet. At my lover's urging we climbed back up to see what he had tripped on and while he claimed simple curiosity, I think it might have been fate instead.  
  
For when we brushed the scattered coins off the strange protrusion that had caught his toes, a shining gemstone lay before our eyes. The jewel glowed from within, lit by a soft eldritch fire, and I knew exactly what it must be. So I reached out to pick up my family's greatest treasure and the moment that my fingers touched it, all thoughts of romance left my mind.  
  
Perhaps it was a vision sent to me by the Valar or a natural instinct screaming in my head, but I could suddenly see how our future might play out. For there was blood behind my eyes, blood and death and carnage sweeping across my company and kin.  
  
I jerked my hand back sharply, staring at the Arkenstone as I might watch a viper, and now it was Bilbo's turn to ask if I was all right. But what answer could I give? I did not know what to say because this premonition, whether real or imagined, had left me shaken to the core. Yet I didn't wish to worry my hobbit needlessly so I shook myself free of my horror, giving him a tremulous smile that he pretended to believe.  
  
Then I used the sleeve of my tunic to pick up the gemstone, tucking it inside one of my inner pockets where it could not touch flesh before standing up once more.  
  
“We need to talk,” I told my lover, taking his hand again and walking on in silence until we reached an alcove off one of the side halls. Once there I leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh and tried to figure out how to explain what had just occurred.  
  
“That gem was the Arkenstone.” I started since this was the heart of the matter, but then I faltered for all this word brought to mind was the death which I had seen.  
  
"Shouldn't we give it to Thorin? It's what he wants." Bilbo said after I had been silent for too long, looking up at me with confused worry in his eyes.  
  
"No.” I replied grimly. Although I did not know which path lead to destruction, something in me was sure that uniting my uncle with the gemstone would be the quickest way to fall. Because while the Arkenstone might wipe out his treasure madness, the rest of our company might not be so lucky and I had grown up surrounded by the damage desperate greed could do. “Let us wait and keep it just in case."  
  
"In case of what?" My hobbit asked, sounding honestly perplexed and I knew my explanation had probably made little sense. But I did not want to speak of my strange vision for speaking would make it far too real.  
  
 _Even if what I saw was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by nerves and overtiredness, the warning held within it was no lie. Because who knows how long loyalty will continue to conquer over the avarice in our companions' hearts and I have seen the hungry light in my brother's eyes. I have seen the greed._  
  
Therefore until I could be sure that none of our company would do something stupid, we would keep the Arkenstone as a weapon in our hand. A bargaining chip to use if all else failed. "In case we need the leverage. Though I truly hope it does not come to that."  
  
I rested my head on Bilbo's shoulder with an exhausted sigh, taking comfort in my hobbit's arms as I wondered how things had become so twisted now. Here I was, plotting against my own family for fear that they would destroy themselves without my interference and yet what else could I do? I could not risk handing over the gemstone on the chance that this would bring about my vision and even if I was branded a traitor for my efforts, I could not stand back while my family ran to ruin before my eyes.  
  
“Would you just hold me for awhile?” I whispered to my lover, wanting to remind myself that not everyone would hate me for what I felt I had to do. Indeed even if he didn't understand exactly, Bilbo was a rock of support as always, stroking my hair softly until my shaking stopped.  
  
Though I felt somewhat guilty about the sudden change in our plans, there was simply no desire left in me after these darkness I had seen. So I could only be thankful that my hobbit didn't press me for anything, helping to search out a cozy corner in which we could curl up together and fall asleep. Perhaps in the morning I would feel myself again.  
  
\---  
  
However, when Bilbo and I woke there was only time for a few innocent kisses before we were interrupted by surprised shouts from the main hall. When the two of us reached the chamber, the rest of the company was there already and the reason for their cries was obvious.  
  
For every inch of bare stone was covered with birds, a living, breathing, feathered cacophony and at its center stood an enormous raven, obviously the leader of the flock. I couldn't imagine where they all had come from or how the creatures had entered the mountain, but before I could speak any of the questions on my tongue, Thorin strode up to the bird and bowed.  
  
The raven was of a height to look my uncle in the eyes and his gaze yellow was piercing when he began to speak. My hobbit startled next to me, obviously unused to creatures who spoke the common tongue and even I had only heard of such things in myth.  
  
But uncle took the situation well in stride, standing calmly as the bird introduced himself. “I am Roäc the Raven. I served your grandfather and I would have served your father if the dragon had not come. I bring you news of the dragon's death."  
  
These tidings cheered our company for knowing that Smaug would never return would be important for our people's morale in the hard years to come. Yet Roäc was not finished and the words which followed were daggers in my heart.  
  
Because the raven told us that Bard had slain the drake, their battle destroying Laketown and killing many of his kin. The surviving Lake-men were now marching on Erebor to ask for restitution, their hearts filled with pain and anger at their loss. They would surely blame our company for failing to kill the dragon before Smaug laid waste to their city and now all of Thorin's promises were coming due as I had feared. Uncle had given them the hope of gold and treasure and that is what they would demand, even though Laketown had no legal claim. Indeed the men were probably acting more from emotion than from reason and with Thranduil's army marching at their side, we could not hope to win by force.  
  
But when Roäc stopped speaking, Thorin's growl reverberated around the chamber in a wave of possessive hate. "They do not come for restitution, they come to claim our gold! I knew their hearts were greedy and should they dare to demand my treasure, we will answer them with steel."  
  
While the rest of the company gave a rousing cheer at this declaration, leaving to raid the armory and see to our defenses, I stood frozen by my hobbit's side. Because I was sure that this was the moment my vision had been warning of, when the lust for treasure led those who should be allies to spill each other's blood. So although I knew what my uncle would surely say, I felt I had to try.  
  
"The elves deserve nothing but doesn't Bard have some right to claim reparations for his town?” I pleaded with him. “We swore that the dragon would die by dwarven steel and that oath is broken."  
  
I hoped that appealing to my uncle's honor would make him consider the idea, make him realize that through this small concession we might head off a greater war. For even if the men of Laketown had no right to claim our people's wealth, all I could think about was the loss of life that was sure to follow unless we found a route to peace. However this attempt failed miserably because Thorin answered my words with a roar of such fury as I had never heard and threw me from the chamber bodily.  
  
Therefore when the company gathered atop the battlements to meet with the armies at our door, there was a sick feeling lodged in my throat. And when Bard the Bowman hailed us, this feeling only grew.  
  
“Why do you fence yourself like a robber in his hole? We are not yet foes and we rejoice that you are alive beyond our hope. We came expecting to find none living here and now that we are met there is matter for a parley and a council.” He told my uncle and I knew then that this would not end like I had hoped. For the man who loved his people and his family more than power seemed to have disappeared beneath one filled with rage and avarice.  
  
“Not yet foes,” He called us before admitting in the next breath that they came to loot our home and even I felt a hint of fury at the thought. _What sort of leader robs the graves of his allies and comes to scavenge treasure whose owners still lived and breathed?_   For even if we had perished in our quest against the dragon, the surviving Sigin-tarâg would always be the rightful owners of the wealth of Erebor.  
  
Though to my great surprise, uncle managed to keep his head at first, listening almost calmly while Bard did indeed demand restitution for the damage Smaug had done. Thorin listened and then he very reasonably told the man exactly what he would do.  
  
“The price of the goods and the assistance that we received from Laketown we will fairly pay – in due time. But we will give you **nothing** under threat of force. While an armed host lies before our door, we look on you as foes and thieves and it is in my mind to ask what share of their inheritance you would have paid to our kindred, had you found the hoard unguarded as you thought?”  
  
Yet while this response was justified, I could not help but worry that we were antagonizing those who must be our kingdom's allies against the harsh winters still to come. _What is one small concession now against decades with these men as Erebor's closest neighbors and such bad blood held between?_  
  
The discussion ended without a solution, Bard avoiding the question of his intent and uncle refusing to negotiate anymore while Thranduil dared to show his face. But a few hours later, all my worst fears were realized when a messenger appeared on our doorstep again and read this ultimatum out:  
  
“In the name of Esgaroth and the Forest… we speak unto Thorin Thráin's son Oakenshield, calling himself the King under the Mountain, and we bid him consider our claims well or be declared our foe. At the least he shall deliver one twelfth portion of the treasure unto Bard, as the dragonslayer and the heir of Girion, and if Thorin would have the friendship of the lands about, then he will also give of his own riches for the comfort of the men of the Lake.”  
  
Every word was guaranteed to drive my uncle into a rage, from the scorn of denying him his proper title to the sheer unreasonable greed of the demands. So I was not particularly surprised when Thorin grabbed my bow and sent this messenger away with an arrow at his heels, even as I felt the bloody wasteland of my vision move ever closer to the present day.  
  
Thus began the siege of the Lonely Mountain  
  
\---  
  
In those first hours, I tried to speak with my uncle and make him understand my worries, understand that this siege could not possibly end well. But he ignored each of my pleas, ordering our companions to search out supplies and the weak points in our defense so we would know exactly where we stood.  
  
The atmosphere within the mountain was tense that night for everyone was on edge with an army at our door and I could not close my eyes without seeing blood splashed across my lids. While the sheer weight of exhaustion eventually dragged me down, I slept for only a few hours before I woke to the flapping of enormous wings. It was Roäc, returning from the Iron Hills with a message for the company, Thorin's cousin Dáin promising that he would bring an army to our aid.  
  
The other dwarves were greatly cheered by this information, but I knew that this meant war indeed and my stomach roiled violently as I watched uncle send his fellow leaders away again. I spent the rest of the day trying to think of a way to halt the carnage and by the time evening fell, I knew what I must do. I had to give our enemies the Arkenstone because only then would Thorin listen, and better I be branded a traitor than have any of our people die.  
  
 _I just wish it had not come to this,_ I thought, watching the others with sorrow in my heart. But while I had considered using the gemstone as a bargaining chip in my own negotiations, it would have been far too easy for Thorin to simply tear the jewel from my hands.  
  
So we had to sneak the Arkenstone outside of Erebor where my uncle could not reach it, give it to our opponents and pray that they would use it well. Because I knew there was no guarantee that Bard and Thranduil would overcome their greed long enough for reason to triumph here; I simply couldn't see any other way.  
  
 _Whether this is the right thing to do or not, this is the course that I have chosen and I would do far worse to ensure that those I care about survive._  
  
Thankfully my lover was willing to act as the messenger since a dwarven prince of Erebor could hardly walk into the enemy camp and ask to see their king. So giving him the gemstone and a kiss for luck, I lowered Bilbo carefully to the ground and watched him until he disappeared.  
  
Then I was stuck waiting again and I swore that this was the last time my hobbit would travel into danger without me by his side. But despite my nerves, he returned in just under an hour, safe and well and with his errand now complete.  
  
“Bard and Thranduil took the gemstone gladly once I told them what it was and they offered me safe residence in their camp if I wished,” Bilbo explained softly as he waited for me to finishing coiling my rope. “But while I told them what you said about compromise being better for all parties, I'm not sure that either of them was actually listening.”  
  
“You did the best you could. Perhaps our former allies would have heeded this warning better from my lips, but I could not risk the elf king deciding to simply hold me hostage and I am a great deal heavier than you.”  
  
Thus there was nothing to do but wait again, though I took a detour to the armory to replace my missing blades before I joined the others back in the main hall. While I was there a shimmer of metal caught my eye, a small mail shirt of mithril in just my hobbit's size. Perhaps it had been my uncle's when he was young for it was armor worthy of a prince of Erebor. Or of his lover and I pocketed the garment to present to Bilbo as a courting gift.  
  
Although we were rather past the wooing stage by now, I was still dwarf enough that I wanted to give him something worthy of the love he'd granted me. Something that would show the world how much my hobbit was valued and given what we had just done, this might be the only portion of our kingdom's treasure that I would ever see. This and the blades which I now carried and it seemed strangely fitting that such battle armament would be my legacy of Erebor when the mountain was coming to mean naught but death to me.  
  
These weapons were with me when I stood upon the wall the next morning and watched Bard raise that shining gemstone high. The sight of the Arkenstone in another's hands drove my uncle into a frothing rage and even though the man had lessened his demands to the same fourteenth share due each member of our company, Thorin would not hear him out.  
  
Instead he sent his fellow kings away once more, vowing to take his treasure back by force when Dáin's warriors arrived, and then uncle turned to the company, "Which of you betrayed me? Which of you slipped out like a thief in the night?"  
  
His eyes were blazing with fury and although I had seen hate on Thorin's face before, this put it all to shame. Truly our leader seemed ready to slaughter all of us if no one admitted to the crime.  
  
But before I could own up to my betrayal, Bilbo proved his foolhardy courage once again. “I took it,” He announced, holding his head high as he met uncle's gaze. “I took the Arkenstone as my share of treasure and traded it to your enemies, hoping that this would force you to bargain for peace instead of continuing on with this needless war. Because you are all my friends and I would not have you die without cause.”  
  
While some of the company seemed to find sense in my hobbit's words, uncle's face only twisted further and he lunged forward with a snarl. Moments later our king was threatening to throw our burglar from the battlements as I stared on in horror, shocked that Thorin so would defy the life debt which he owed.  
  
Yet it was no bluff and when my uncle raised Bilbo high above his head, I tackled them both to the battlements. No one was going to hurt **my** lover while I still drew breath and I shoved him behind me with a snarl of my own.  
  
"Stop this madness!” I shouted. “Yes Bilbo gave the Arkenstone to Bard but he did it with my blessing, because it was the only way to make you all see reason. We cannot fight the combined armies of Dale and Mirkwood, even if Dáin comes to our aid, and it is folly to try. Should we somehow win, our victory would still be hollow because every death on either side would be a life wasted, a life sacrificed for your insane possessive pride. So please, give them Bilbo's share, give them my share if you must, and let us all go home in peace!"  
  
By the time I fell silent, my temper having run its course, uncle was nearly apoplectic in his rage and I knew that my plea had fallen on deaf ears. However, to my eternal surprise, it was not Thorin who snapped first.  
  
"Silence!” My brother roared as all the anger he had been keeping locked away finally broke down his walls. “You have no right to speak of honor, no right to speak of anything! You have betrayed us all in giving away the greatest treasure of our people and you have betrayed your family in this attempt to sacrifice our home. How can you speak of wasting lives when you waste your love on this hobbit? How can you speak of home when you plan to run away with him to live in sin and perfidy? You talk of peace, but we shall have peace when our enemies are dead!"  
  
Though his words still hurt me even now, I refused to let Fíli see me bleed and so I stood firm beneath this onslaught until he finally ran out of hate to spew. There was silence when my brother finished, our companions' faces torn between shock and accord and I knew then that I would receive no assistance there. For even those who shared my preferences remained quiet, their reticence as damaging as hatred in the end.  
  
"Is this true?" Thorin asked me and now that Fíli's words had released me from my oath, I was not going to lie. "From his perspective, yes," I told my uncle and he remained silent for a long time as he contemplated what to do with me.  
  
But while some optimistic streak within my heart still hoped for his acceptance, I was not truly surprised when our king finally began to speak. "You have betrayed us twice over then, once for cowardice and once for folly. If these were older days your lives would bleed upon my blade for the disgrace that you have caused me. Yet for the bonds of family and the life debt that I owe, you may keep your heads if not your honor. You are banished from my sight for as long as I still live and if you wish mercy try the armies on our doorstep, because traitors such as yourselves will find none of that here."  
  
 _And that is that. All ties are cut just as I hoped and feared. I only wish that I could have stopped this foolishness before you banished me,_ I thought, regret filling me as I looked at those who had been my kin.  
  
However, I had known that this might be my fate ever since Fíli had first tried to sabotage my romance and so I would not falter now. Instead I clasped my hobbit's hand proudly as Dwalin tied a rope to the battlements, taking some pleasure in the fact that half our company could not meet my eyes. Then we were climbing, every foot of distance taking me farther from the only family which I had ever known.  
  
“Will you be all right?” My hobbit asked me once we had reached the ground and for a moment I was not sure what to say. I was not happy and I knew that I would miss the others fiercely and yet I felt strangely free.  
  
So I said, “I will be,” and wrapped my arm around Bilbo's shoulders as we began the long trek toward the army of tents on the fields of Erebor.  
  
\---  
  
Whispers followed us when we passed the border of the human's camp, the sentry waving Bilbo through on his king's command. But no one was pleased to see a dwarf walking with him and if not for my lover's presence, I probably would have been fleeing a lynch mob before I took two steps.  
  
However, we managed to reach Bard's tent safely and were bowed inside by a stern-faced guard. There we found the Bowman and Thranduil pouring over a map of the area, obviously planning out how they would attack. The two kings looked up at our entrance and when he saw my hobbit, Bard greeted him cheerfully.  
  
“Master Baggins, you've returned. Did you decide to accept our hospitality after all?”  
  
“Well, yes I suppose, though not exactly anything so voluntary as all that,” Bilbo replied awkwardly. “I'm afraid that we were cast out rather decisively for our part in this conflict and don't really have anywhere else to go.”  
  
“I'm sorry to hear that but you are certainly welcome here. Although... did you say we?” Bard's words cut off sharply as he finally noticed me where I was standing in the shadows of the tent. I had thought it prudent to let the kings see Bilbo first before throwing a dwarf into the mix and given the surprise on their faces, I had probably been right. Though now there was no more point in hiding so I stepped forward and greeted them with a short bow.  
  
“Kíli son of Jilí at your service. I am sorry to intrude like this.” I said, trying to remember the lessons in formal manners which mother had done her best to shove into my head.  
  
“You're a dwarf,” Thranduil said softly while Bard was still gaping, proving that even elves could state the obvious. Though I could not stop myself from flinching when he continued, the wound too fresh to bear even this light weight. “And if I am not mistaken, you are one of Thorin's nephews as well.”  
  
“Perhaps I was once, but I am no son of Durin now.” I replied, shaking my head.  
  
His surprise at this statement knocked Bard out of his stupor and he looked at me with a hint of worry in his eyes. “Thorin cast out one of his own kin? What could you have done to make him turn on you so harshly?”  
  
“I betrayed him, or did you think that Bilbo stole the Arkenstone entirely under his own inspiration. No, it was my idea so for that and other... _private_ matters we have been banished from Thorin's sight. Our former kinship is the only reason that he did not kill me where I stood. Though he might have been somewhat kinder if you hadn't managed to infuriate him so.”  
  
“You cannot blame your uncle's actions on us. If that stubborn dwarf had only been reasonable and given in to our demands then none of this would have been necessary.” Thranduil said in that annoyingly condescending way of his.  
  
“And if you had not come to us with avarice in your thoughts and greed shining in your eyes, then Thorin would not have reacted as he did. You should have asked for aid unarmed as gentlemen instead of marching with an army to our gate.” I retorted hotly, before Bilbo's soft touch on my arm brought me up short. With some effort I forced my temper back under control, reminding myself that we could not afford to alienate these kings as well. “But what's done is done and the time for blame is past. If you have a spare tent that we may borrow or even a spot to lay our gear, the two of us shall leave to your work.”  
  
Although Thranduil seemed entirely unfazed by my words, I thought I saw a hint of guilt in the Bowman's eyes and he winced when the elf king asked, “Are you sure you do not wish to stay? Your insight would be invaluable.”  
  
 _As if I was a traitor in truth, to sell my family out to a scavenger such as you!_   This was an insult that I would not have born in other circumstances and my voice was tight as I replied. “I gave you the Arkenstone because I wished to avoid a battle but now that war is coming, I cannot stand on either side. Even if I have been cast out, all of Durin's Folk are still kindred in my heart and so while I will not fight against you, I also will not help you conquer them.”  
  
“That is a position deserving of respect,” Bard told me, shooting a glare to his ally. “We are not such brutes as to ask you to turn upon your family and your friends and I shall have one of my archers show you to an open place which you may claim. Though if you choose to grant us some of your knowledge later on, I would appreciate any advice that will reduce the danger of death on both sides.”  
  
 _Any advice except to renounce your demands and focus on rebuilding as you should,_ I thought somewhat bitterly, although I inclined my head in thanks nonetheless. At least he was not pressing me to do what I could not and there were glimpses here and there of the good man Bard had seemed.  
  
One of the king's guards led us to an empty patch of earth nearby and he was kind enough to scrounge a tent for us as well. Given the interesting stains it carried, the cloth had clearly been used for storage in the not too distant past, but it would serve our purposes just fine. So we bid the man farewell before setting up our shelter and it truly was a sad state of affairs.  
  
But Bilbo didn't seem to mind the poor accommodations, running off to explore the camp while I stayed behind and sharpened my weapons to a lethal edge. I figured that it would be better to show my face as little as possible for the moment until the men of Laketown lost some of their resentment and truly, there was not much else to do. When my hobbit returned several hours later I had moved on to making arrows, having borrowed the supplies from a nearby armorer, and Bilbo settled down to watch at my side.  
  
This was not something I had done in front of my lover before so he was quite fascinated, peppering me with questions in between descriptions of what he had found. It seemed that the men were vastly outnumbered by their allies, some one thousand elves to their two hundred fighting strength, and this made me feel slightly more sympathetic to the choices Bard had made.  
  
Outnumbered five to one, the Bowman could not have forced Thranduil to leave against his will and I seriously doubted that the elf king had been inclined to do as uncle asked. Thus while I was still rather angry at the man, perhaps his actions had not been as actively malicious as I had first thought.  
  
However, in truth this changed little and I moved on to sharpening my hobbit's blade as the hours dragged by. It was a fine weapon, nearly as fine as any dwarven work, and I knew that it would serve my lover well. But while I intended to sit this battle out if remotely possible and the mithril armor would protect Bilbo from damage, it didn't seem right to let him wander about with only one weapon to his name. So I used this time to kit my hobbit out with as many knives as he would take and he seemed somewhat relieved when the horns sounded to signal Dáin's arrival.  
  
This was the moment for which I had been waiting because if Thorin would not see reason perhaps my elder cousin would, and this was my last chance to stop the war before far too much blood was shed. So I armed myself again and left to speak with Dáin, Bilbo remaining at the edge of Bard's encampment on my request.  
  
Yet uncle must have sent Roäc to his cousin with the news of my banishment for Dáin's warriors would not even let me cross the army's lines. No matter how strongly I swore that I must talk to their leader over a matter of life and death, the other dwarves remained impassive to my pleas.  
  
Eventually the captain grew tired of my persistence, ordering several of his company to throw me from his sight. Since I would not fight my kin and they seemed to have none of the same restraint in terms of fighting me, I could do nothing but limp back to my lover as a failure once again. And while Bilbo offered to sneak into the dwarven army and find Dáin himself, I knew that the Lord of the Iron Hills would never listen to a hobbit's advice.  
  
Just then Bard summoned us back to his pavilion where Thranduil demanded to know why I had not told them of my cousin's threat. Several of his lieutenants seemed prepared to kill me themselves when I reminded the elf king that this would have counted as aiding them against my kin and one of the more hotheaded even accused me of being a dwarven spy.  
  
But to my surprise, the Bowman came to my defense and I knew then that something in my earlier words must have touched him truly. Bard even allowed me to stay and listen to their war council over his ally's objections once I explained that, “I want to see what I have wrought.”  
  
Indeed I considered this my penance of sorts, to listen to these onetime allies plan the best way to kill my kin. For perhaps if I had done something differently then we would not be standing here now and yet who knew if my actions made a difference at all. Bilbo sat there with me, a comforting presence pressed against my side, and when the talk was finished, we perched upon a nearby hill to watch our friends die.  
  
Though I wasn't actually sure if Thorin and the others would join in the fight since opening the Lonely Mountain's gate would break the siege, and part of my heart hoped that our company would stay safe behind those walls.  
  
Because it was bad enough to watch dwarves whom I had never met line up for slaughter, the three armies forming a great triangle upon the plain. Once they were in position, the warriors of three kingdoms stood at the ready, waiting only for the spark to light the blaze. Indeed the air over the battlefield was heavy with a strange expectation, like the moment before a lightning strike, and all that remained now was to see where it would fall.  
  
However, before that signal was given, there was a great commotion from the west and my eyes picked out a rider tearing across the plain. Though I could not see who it was at this distance, I recognized Gandalf's voice when he cried out that an army of orcs and goblins was marching our way.  
  
“So cease this foolish bickering,” He ordered, spinning his horse in place to glare at all three kings. “If you do not band together now, then all of you will be slain on orcish blades.”  
  
As much as Bard, Dáin, and Thranduil might have hated and mistrusted each other, the wizard was still considered a friend to all their peoples and his word was his bond. Therefore they ordered their armies back to camp for now while they met to discuss this new threat.  
  
By the time the lords finished giving out these orders, Bilbo and I had made our way to Gandalf's side and the wizard seemed surprised indeed to see us there. But there was no time for more than a cursory explanation of our part in the conflict before our small party arrived at Bard's pavilion and the focus of all thoughts turned to war.  
  
While Gandalf believed that the main force of goblins should not arrive until morning, there were only a few hours left in the day and we could not afford to be exhausted when our enemy arrived. So the kings worked feverishly to come up with a plan and their warriors slept on the battlefield that night.  
  
Dawn broke early the next morning, bringing with it the foul scent of goblins on the wind, while our allies had arranged their armies on the left and right flanks of the Lonely Mountain to draw their foes into a pincer trap. I stood with the other archers upon the eastern spar, ready to rain death upon the goblins as they ran by and Bilbo waited with his sling at my side.  
  
Despite my hobbit's bravery, he was not trained as a warrior and with his small size it would be far too easy for him to be trampled in the chaos. So we had scrounged the sling for him from one of Bard's kinsmen and I truly hoped that we would not face closer quarters before the day was done.  
  
But when our foes appeared on the horizon, that hope began to seem a frail and futile thing. Because there were thousands of them, more than double our own forces, and while our trap seemed to be working at first, every goblin struck down by my arrows was replaced by four more. So although we archers shot until our fingers were raw and our quivers nearly empty, there was no end to the enemy and gradually the tide began to turn.  
  
Screams began to rise over the battlefield as our allies fell by the hundreds, screams of fear and agony. I could hear Thranduil cursing behind me, his mask of serenity finally cracking with the first deaths of his kinsmen and yet it did not help to know that elves could feel such helplessness after all.  
  
Because if even he who had lived a hundred lifetimes could not see a way to turn this fight to victory then what hope was there for us all? But while the coward within my heart wanted to grab my hobbit and run, I could not give up now. I would never be able to live with myself if I abandoned my kin to their fates and if I was going to die, I was going to die fighting.  
  
So when I spied the pale orc riding in the center of the carnage, I felt determination well up in my chest. However, before I could act upon this impulse, my feet were frozen by the yell which echoed across the battlefield.  
  
"Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" My uncle shouted our ancient battle cry as he and his company charged out of Erebor to make their final stand. I could see the bright flash of Fíli's hair there with him as they sliced through orcs like steel, a blade aimed at Azog's heart, and for a moment I thought they would succeed. Indeed uncle had nearly reached the Defiler when their charge began to falter and on seeing this, I ran forward to provide whatever aid I could.  
  
Bilbo was at my side even though I had not asked it of him, his face a mask of resolve as we fought to get in range. I could see Fíli and uncle battling against Azog's massive guards as the rest of the company tried to fend off the seething mass of goblins at their back and I drew my bow to take one of the monsters down.  
  
“Kíli, watch out!” The cry came just as I released my arrow and I prayed that it struck true even as I threw myself to the side. A massive blade landed in the earth where I had been moments before, the goblin who wielded it snarling in anger and then falling with Bilbo's blade buried in his gut.  
  
My hobbit pulled me to my feet and I clasped his shoulder briefly in thanks before turning to see how my kin had fared. Although my vision was blocked by the sheer number of enemies, I could see flashes of Thorin and my brother facing off against Azog and I knew that my arrow must have done its work. However, the ferocity of our enemy was driving the rest of the company back step by step, so I swept my bow off the ground and raced forward to find a better vantage point.  
  
Yet this search took forever even with Bilbo at my side, every foot a struggle through blood and mud and pain. There were too many of our foe to defend against properly and soon my body was littered with gashes which had slipped beneath my guard.  
  
But whenever I caught a glimpse through the carnage, my kinsmen were struggling to hold their own and as long as I could lift my weapon, I would not leave them without aid.  
  
Finally, my hobbit and I carved our way to a high outcrop of rock from which I could look down upon the battle, just in time to see my uncle fall. Though Thorin had done serious damage and a gaping wound was visible on Azog's stomach where his sword had lodged in deep, somehow the orc still had the strength to batter Fíli down. My brother's weapon was knocked from his hands as I struggled to draw my bow through the wound on my shoulder, Bilbo standing nearby to watch my back.  
  
Soon my world narrowed to the sight line of my arrow, the sounds of the battlefield fading into silence as my eyes locked on Azog's throat. Nothing else mattered, not the goblin who sliced Fíli from behind nor the cries of my companions on the wind. Nothing mattered but killing the Defiler before he fulfilled his vow and with a slow exhale, I released the string.  
  
My missile shot true, striking the pale orc cleanly through his neck, but before I could see if my brother was alive, I was brought back to my surroundings by a sharp pain in my side. I let out a startled scream, more surprised than injured, jerking around to stab my dagger into a goblin's chest.  
  
When Azog fell, the majority of his army began to retreat in panic as our allies rallied to chase the creatures down. But this was no help to those of us in the midst of the fighting for the Defiler's lieutenants had gone berserk instead. These goblins attacked viciously, the remaining members of our company quickly overwhelmed by their fury and it was all I could do to keep my head.  
  
However, just as I was losing all hope of survival, I heard my hobbit shout, “the eagles are coming,” and salvation swept down upon the field.  
  
“Please check on my brother,” I whispered to Bilbo as my energy finally gave out, the edges of my vision dimming from loss of blood. He nodded quickly, worry in his gaze, but I could see our allies riding toward us over his shoulder and I knew that we would be all right.  
  
\---  
  
When I regained consciousness the sharp pain of my injuries had faded to a dull ache, though attempting to sit up was not one of my best plans. However, my hobbit was there in seconds, helping me to lean back against the bed.  
  
“Idiot, you shouldn't move yet” He scolded, checking on my bandages and forcing me to stay still. But as relieved as my lover appeared to see me there was sorrow in his eyes and I felt my heart lurch.  
  
“Fíli?” I asked, clutching at Bilbo's arm. “Is he all right?” Even after everything which had happened, the thought of my brother dying left an icy hole within my chest, _I cannot lose him now, not before we mend what is broken._  
  
But my lover shook his head and wrapped his arms around me in reassurance. “Fíli is fine. I saw him earlier,” Bilbo whispered against my neck. “But your uncle... Thorin, he summoned me. He forgave us for our actions and urged your brother to do the same, only his injuries... they proved to be too much. I'm so sorry love, but your uncle is gone.”  
  
“The king is dead, long live the king,” I murmured, burying my head in Bilbo's shoulder as tears began to stream down my face. I sobbed helplessly, crying for Thorin who would never live to see his home restored, crying for my mother who would have to bury another of her kin, and for myself, who had been forgiven but would never see that truth on my uncle's face. For myself, who had been forgiven but not by the family member who mattered most.  
  
While Fíli might have changed, Thorin's final words opening his eyes to possibility of truths other than our family honor, somehow I knew that this wouldn't be the case.  
  
Because my brother was king now, young and untried though he might be. Uncle was dead, he was king and he would hold tight to our traditions as a means to prove himself. So I knew that Bilbo and I would not be welcome in Fíli's sight, for his detractors would need only point to his feckless, degenerate brother to try and prove him unworthy for the job. And I knew that I could not be the reason that he failed in his dreams just as I could not make the sacrifice he would demand.  
  
Once I accepted this, I found that my weeping stopped quickly, though I knew that I would probably still mourn for many years. But the sharpness of the pain had flowed out with my tears and now all I had to do was wait for the blow to fall.  
  
Bilbo eventually succumbed to sleep, curling across my lap as exhaustion bore him down. So I sat there, stroking his hair slowly until my brother arrived and the way that he looked down at us told me I was right.  
  
"You saved my life even after you were banished and have regained the right to be named among our people. I would call you brother once again and I wish for you to stand at my side as I rebuild Erebor because your support and your counsel would greatly ease my heart. However, this cannot be if you insist on staying with the hobbit. I cannot watch you throw your life away and I cannot accept the loss of respect your love would cost me, not if Erebor is to regain its former glory. What say you?"  
  
His voice was even, without the anger or disgust of our earlier conversations, and I knew that Fíli truly wanted to repair our relationship. But my brother wanted it on his terms alone and thus, no matter how much it pained me to hurt him, there was still only one answer which I could give. "You know my choice, brother, you have known it for months, which is why you fought so hard to change my mind. I will follow my heart and return with Bilbo to the Shire, though I wish you all the luck in the world."  
  
I truly meant these words and I hoped that he could see that, see that I never meant to cause him any harm. I wanted my brother to be happy despite everything all that he had done even as I simply could not force myself into his mold anymore.  
  
But I think some part of Fíli's mind heard my apology even if he was not conscious of it, for his eyes were sad when he continued, promising that I could stay for Thorin's funeral and would always have a place with him if I ever changed my mind. So my brother felt the pain of this separation as much as I did but whatever doubts he might have felt were hidden beneath the weight of law and propriety. Honor was his anchor and his crutch, helping Fíli to face the world even as he tried to deny all its wild variation and for that I pitied him.  
  
"And I hope someday you will learn, as uncle did, that the world is not so black and white and love is worth the price."  
  
He left the tent then and although I remained in Erebor for three more days, my brother never once looked me in the eye. Indeed Fíli avoided me throughout my convalescence, throwing himself into the work of kingship with a vengeance as the dead were laid upon their pyres and the battlefield was cleared.  
  
So once Thorin was finally buried, laid in state beneath his kingdom with that damned stone on his chest, I did not bother to say goodbye. There was no point in opening that wound again when my brother was not going to apologize and right now, I just wanted to leave this whole mess behind.  
  
Some of the company did find us while Bilbo and I were packing for the road, dropping in to say farewell. Dori, Nori and Ori came, Bofur and Dwalin and even Glóin arrived to show his support. It warmed my heart to see them, particularly those who did not understand my choices but wanted us to know that we were loved anyway. So I set these memories within my mind to treasure in case I never saw my friends again and promised that they would always be welcome in Bad End if they were ever down our way.  
  
Then we mounted our ponies and set out toward Mirkwood, the first stop on our long journey west. Although I was still not fond of the elf king, Thranduil had been polite since the battle and it would have been an insult to ignore his hospitality. So we spent a few days there while he named my hobbit Elf-friend for his actions and pretended that I did not exist.  
  
But Thranduil's youngest son seemed to like me now that we were allies and although his temper still flared brightly, the elf was always willing to indulge my archery. Bilbo and I met up with Gandalf there as well, the wizard traveling back across the Misty Mountains to speak with his kindred and he decided to join us on our road. So the trip back through the Mirkwood was infinitely more pleasant than the journey east had been and we spent many hours listening to Gandalf's tales.  
  
The descriptions of what he had found in Dol Guldur chilled my blood and I was rather impressed that the wizard had survived at all. But he seemed just as interested in what had occurred in his long absence, making Bilbo and I tell our stories in excruciating detail and asking questions on everything.  
  
We reached Beorn's hall before we had finished this recitation and so the final portion of the tale was told around the skin-changer's glowing hearth. This was the first time that I had actually heard the complete tale of my lover's encounter with the dragon and when he finished I simply had to kiss him then and there. However, when I looked up nervously to see Gandalf watching us across the table, he simply offered his congratulations.  
  
“I have seen many things in my long years on this earth and love such as yours is a rare blessing indeed. So treasure it. Treasure your love and let no one tell you that it lacks value because they do not agree with the form it took.”  
  
There was something strangely sad in the wizard's eyes and I did not stop him when he changed the subject back to more cheerful things. Though as I curled around my hobbit that night, I wondered, _who could he have lost?_  
  
Once we left Beorn's hall, the next landmark in our travels was Rivendell and with the Misty Mountains emptied of goblins, this stretch took no time at all. Indeed the journey west was far easier than the journey east had been and it seemed strange that the same road could change so much. But perhaps there had been greater forces arrayed against us than just our mortal foes and when I mentioned this thought to Gandalf, he mused pensively.  
  
“You may be right, Master Kíli There are events which change the shape of history, people who hold fate within their hands, and these lives are never easy for those involved. For while the Valar are good, they are not always kind to their heroes and your uncle's life may have been a small price to pay for the victory they wrought.”  
  
However, it was impossible to keep discussing such disturbing theories in the dreamy peace of Rivendell, particularly when Bilbo was so fond of the place. While his love for these elves still made me slightly jealous, it was easier to bear now that I could stake my claim properly.  
  
After all the beds in Elrond's House were just as lovely as I remembered and since my lover was a screamer, every elf in earshot soon knew he'd chosen me. Though truthfully they seemed more amused than annoyed by my possessiveness and every speck of envy I'd ever felt was worth the way my hobbit blushed when Elrond politely asked if we could keep it down next time.  
  
Our small company spent over a week in those wooded halls, resting and resupplying while Gandalf and the elf lord had serious discussions about Smaug, the future and past history. But we paid them little mind after Bilbo snuck into one of their talks and discovered that it was all about omens and shadows on the wind.  
  
From Rivendell we continued toward the Shire, taking a short detour to unearth some buried gold. My companions would not miss this stash with their share of Erebor and I was not truly comfortable with the thought of making my hobbit support me when I was used to pulling my own weight. But this gold would balance out the scales until I found my trade, though I did give a share to Gandalf to aid our friend in whatever mad quest he took on next.  
  
A few days later our paths diverged for the wizard's road led north toward the Hills of Evendim and so it was only the two of us who set out west again.  
  
With every furlong that we traveled, I felt the burdens on my heart grow lighter and Bilbo too relaxed his watchfulness. Soon our journey was filled with song and hope and laughter once again and I came to realize that as much as he enjoyed adventure, part of my hobbit would always love his homeland more. For he was a child of this western earth, its lush fertility feeding his spirit as no walls of stone had done.  
  
It was this same sense of belonging which had so enticed me when Fíli and I began our quest nearly a year ago and it meant the world that my love would understand. Indeed, when we finally crossed over the Brandywine River and entered the Shire proper, Bilbo turned to me with a brilliant smile and murmured,  
  
“Welcome home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took much less than the month I had originally thought and let me tell you I am really happy to finally be done with the quest. But while there's only 2 chapters to go, no guarantee if you'll get them as fast as this one. However, I will try to hold to my initial one month cutoff at least.


	6. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbiton

Although we were now within the boundaries of the Shire, Hobbiton was still a fair distance away and neither of us felt like rushing the journey there. So we dawdled instead, Bilbo and I rising late and camping early to take advantage of this country's lush spring days.  
  
And they truly were lush, the Shire's verdant promise visible in every blooming orchard and flower-covered field. Daisies, buttercups and yarrow; poppies, goldenrod and tea roses along with a score of other blossoms which I couldn't even name. Yet their scent was a sweet cloud in the air when we tumbled down into the grass, Bilbo kissing me senseless and then weaving flowers into my hair.  
  
My hobbit claimed that such wreaths announced our intent to marry, but while I allowed him to adorn me as he wished, privately I thought he must be pulling my leg. Though it seemed that my lover was actually serious because when we rode into Frogmorton, the entire village stopped to stare.  
  
“Mister Baggins, you've come back.” One of the younger hobbits exclaimed, his voice breaking the silence as he and his sisters looked up at us in awe. “And you're riding a pony!”  
  
“Never mind the ponies, he's caught himself a dwarf.” An older hobbitess cut in, eyes locked on the flower garlands in our hair. Bilbo had woven particularly fancy ones that morning and now I understood why he had taken the extra care, for I could feel her sharp gaze passing judgment on every misplaced leaf.  
  
But just when I was starting to doubt that his people would accept me after all, she broke into a huge smile and reached up to pat my hobbit on the leg.  
  
“Good for you boy, I always knew you had it in you to snare yourself a proper husband and this one looks he's good with his hands. And his mouth.” She said as she looked me over, her salacious wink making Bilbo laugh.  
  
“Thanks Menegilda, though I'm afraid my mother taught me not to kiss and tell. Besides, if we're being accurate, it's more like he caught me.”  
  
This exchange caught me off guard for even dwarves without my secrets tended to keep their private lives out of the public eye. So while I tended toward filthiness in the heat of the moment, this was rather like hearing my mother critiquing my technique and I was sure that I was blushing furiously. However the other hobbits took their joking as a sign of acceptance, gathering around to offer congratulations and some filthy implications of their own.  
  
So even though I felt as if I would burst into flames from embarrassment, this was a much better reaction to my presence than I had feared. For no matter how Bilbo had reassured me that his people would not mind, my brother's rejection was still an open wound across my heart.  
  
A wound that I had been doing my best to ignore until it healed and the sheer joy of these last days had helped my peace of mind. Because even though it hurt to think of Fíli, I knew I had made the right choice for my own happiness and these hobbits' obvious delight meant I would not be without allies here.  
  
Besides Bilbo had my back as always and when their questions became more than I could handle, my love was quick to rescue me. “You'll get used to them,” He whispered as he made our excuses and I could only hope that he was right.  
  
So we nudged our ponies onward, the hobbits allowing us to leave once we promised everyone invitations to the wedding, which would be a party to remember if Bilbo's people had their way. Menegilda was the last to say farewell, waiting until the rest of the crowd had dispersed before giving me one last flirtatious wink and offering my hobbit this advice:  
  
“Hold your head up high, lad, because he obviously adores you and that's the most important thing in a man. So if anyone gives you trouble over marrying a dwarf, say that Menegilda likes him and I'll take my broom to anyone who disagrees. Though you may want to hurry home now because last I heard, the Sackville-Bagginses had finally convinced the Thain that you were dead and claimed your smial for themselves.”  
  
“They what?!” Bilbo shouted, wheeling his pony around to race off down the path. I gave one last wave to the old hobbitess and then followed, catching up to my love at the next bend. But his scowl was truly ferocious and I decided to leave him alone until he calmed enough to listen to advice.  
  
Although it took over an hour, my hobbit's curses eventually trailed off into silence and I had to admit that I was impressed by his sheer inventiveness. However, by this point our ponies were beginning to tire from the breakneck pace so I spoke up to rein him in. The distance was simply too far to travel in what was left of the day and driving our mounts to exhaustion wouldn't help anything.  
  
Besides if his relatives truly were trying to steal Bag End then we would need to be well-rested and thus we camped just past the Bywater that night. From there we could reach Hobbiton fairly early the next morning and practicality aside, I was also happy to have an evening's respite before facing another score of over-excited halflings who delighted in making strangers blush. Which reminded me of something I had to say.  
  
“So I guess we're getting married then?” I inquired when Bilbo and I curled up by the campfire, wrapping my arms around my hobbit and nuzzling his neck. “I mean I intended to ask you anyway, if a bit more romantically than this, but your neighbors obviously expect a party and I don't know anything about how a hobbit wedding works. Dwarven weddings tend to be quiet affairs, stern and private just like us.”  
  
“The person who said that obviously never met you,” My love replied with a fond smile before leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. “But don't worry about meeting everyone's expectations; the ceremony is pretty simple and I'll tell you what to say. As for the party, I'm sure one of my relatives will be happy plan it and as long as there's plenty of food, our guests will be satisfied.”  
  
“Good to know, though I'm still going to wed you properly before we set that date. Because there are some dwarven traditions which I plan to follow no matter what my brother thinks.”  
  
Bilbo agreed without argument and with this weight off my mind, I fell asleep easily, waking up to the soft light of dawn. My hobbit was already awake and with such an early start, the two of us reached Hobbiton right after second breakfast, whereupon we discovered that Menegilda had been right. For we arrived just as Bilbo's relatives were beginning their auction, the contents of Bag End strewn across the yard for everyone to see. Quite a crowd had gathered to bid on my lover's belongings and I heard him take a furious breath when his mother's china was the first item called.  
  
“How dare you?!” He roared, shoving his pony forward to confront the Sackville-Bagginses. “I am most certainly not dead and I do not approve of this.”  
  
The minute he spoke up, the entire crowd went silent and you could have heard a pin drop across the way. Up on the porch, his relatives stared at him in shock, though the youngest lass had a dangerous glint in her eye. She would be the one to watch because the older hobbits were soft and portly and the lad seemed rather hazy on what was going on. Indeed, it was this lass who stepped forward to answer Bilbo's accusations, her tongue as sharp as her smile was false.  
  
“You were gone for a year, cousin, you can hardly blame us for assuming the worst. Particularly when you ran off with dwarves. So while it took some time for the Thain to agree, you can check our paperwork yourself and I assure you that the firm of Grubb, Grubb and Burrows filed everything properly.”  
  
“I am not your cousin, Lobelia, not yet. You may be engaged to Otho but you're still a Bracegirdle until you come of age and you have no business here.” My hobbit retorted, glaring up at the interlopers. “And while your paperwork might have been legal if I were actually deceased, since I am still living my smial belongs to me. So I would greatly appreciate it if you would get your filthy hands off my silverware and your feet off my porch.”  
  
Although Lobelia protested mightily, she had no leg to stand on and the lawyers of Grubb, Grubb and Burrows eventually convinced her to back down. Then Bilbo watched smugly as his relatives slunk off in disgrace before enlisting several of his fellows to help carry everything back inside.  
  
Since we had arrived before any of his belongings were sold there was no grumbling over their reclamation and truly most of his friends seemed more interested in what I was doing there. However, after the requisite introductions and promises of wedding invitations, the swarm of neighbors finally left and a comfortable silence descended once again.  
  
Bag End had hardly changed in the months since we had left, still warm and cozy in spirit despite the hint of neglect in the air. But the dust and chill were easily dispersed with a few open windows and a fire in the hearth, tasks which I took care of while Bilbo set his home to rights.  
  
 _My home as well,_ and that thought made warmth blossom in my chest. For I was more than a guest now, more than the stranger who had looked around this smial with envy in my eyes. We had both changed, my hobbit and I, and while parts of the journey had been painful, we were better for it in the end. Here I had a chance to be happy despite what I had sacrificed, far happier than I could have been living Fíli's lie. Here neither of us would be alone and the love I saw in Bilbo's smile would have been worth far more scars than those upon my heart.  
  
I was still contemplating all that had occurred since the last time we were here when my hobbit dropped down next to me, resting his head on my shoulder with a contented sigh.  
  
“It's good to be home,” He said and then chuckled quietly. “Even if I had to fight off Lobelia's grasping claws before we could get in the door. But while that branch of the family is rather awful, everyone else should treat you right. In fact I think you'll probably be something of a hero to the fauntlings and I know you'll win over the older folks like Menegilda as soon as they meet you for themselves. So why do you look so sad?”  
  
“I'm not really, I promise. I was just thinking on how much my life has changed.” I told him in answer to his soft question, turning to press a kiss into his hair. “If anything I'm simply overwhelmed with happiness to have finally made it here.”  
  
“All right, if you're sure.” Bilbo replied, taking me at my word despite his obvious concern. But my hobbit knew the comfort of silence so he simply hugged me tightly before standing up again. “I'm going to see if your lot left anything in the pantry for elevenses and you can join me when you're ready. Try not to dwell on the past too much if you can.”  
  
It was good advice and I truly meant to follow it from this moment on. I planned to look to the future now that I had one worth striving for and while I could never forget where I had come from, I also would not let it drag me down.  
  
But first I allowed myself to mourn the consequences of my choices and all that I had lost by breaking my own path. Only then did I wipe my eyes and go to join the best thing in my life.  
  
\---  
  
I spent the next few weeks settling into my new home, familiarizing myself with the Shire and trying to decide just what my place would be. Because I could not be content with doing nothing, even if we could afford it, and while Bilbo wiled away the hours with his books and illustrations, I had never been the scholarly type.  
  
Indeed whatever Fíli thought of me, some part of my heart was truly dwarven since I was happiest when shaping wood or metal beneath my hands. So I thought I might take over the empty forge in the market for my hobbit had mentioned the lack of consistent metalwork.  
  
Though first I had to do some research because I seemed to offend at least one person every time I left the house. It was never intentional, but while my love had given me basic lessons on etiquette and our neighbors' quirks, the intricacies of Shire manners put royal politics to shame and I simply could not keep the feuding straight. Thankfully most hobbits seemed to take my ignorance in stride and the fauntlings were always happy to tell me just what I'd done wrong. Yet I could hardly run a successful business while accidentally insulting half my customers and I refused to gain a reputation as an unskilled bargainer.  
  
I still had some pride after all and I did not want the other hobbits to think that my love had chosen poorly when he pledged his life to mine. _Even if my burglar does not care._  
  
So I studied the masters at work, joining Bilbo on his social outings and paying careful attention to the hidden meanings behind every polite word. Truly my tutors would have been proud of my determination and while it took nearly a month, eventually I felt that I knew enough to hold my own.  
  
Along the way I learned that every meal was sacred, wearing boots indoors was a sign of barbarity and one did not get between a hobbitess and her wedding plans, even if you only wanted to remind her that you hadn't set a date. Yet despite all my mishaps along the way, I never felt as though I was being judged for my failures as I had been by my family in the past.  
  
Because I wasn't doing this to make Bilbo happy or chase some far away ideal; I was doing this for me.  
  
 _What kind of husband would I be if I did not try to improve our lives together? What kind of love could we have if I shunned his heritage simply because it was different than that which I had known?_  
  
My hobbit was worth it precisely because he never asked and made sure that I knew his love was unconditional. For while I was learning about my new people, Bilbo was working hard to make me feel at home.  
  
It was the little things: hanging my bow and quiver in pride of place above the mantelpiece, somehow finding the ingredients for traditional dwarven dishes when I was feeling overwhelmed and teaching me the local paths so I would not get lost. Small things but they turned Bag End into our home instead of only his and I did not have the words to tell Bilbo what this meant to me.  
  
So I tried to show him instead: stealing kisses whenever I wanted to make him smile, tackling the repairs around the house without complaint and overcoming my habit of secrecy to hold his hand when we strolled through the Hobbiton.  
  
I even let him take me to the tailors as I had promised back in Laketown, leaving with an entire wardrobe of hobbit-style clothes. He bought it all, from waistcoats to knee-breeches, though I refused to give up my boots entirely. Impolite or not, I kept them by the door to wear on longer outings and given how my hobbit always jumped me on our picnics, I rather thought he was happy that I did.  
  
As for the rest of my attire, the look in Bilbo's eyes was well worth how naked I felt without my usual layers and when the days grew hotter, I learned to appreciate the lighter fabrics just as I was beginning to appreciate the way his people thought.  
  
Truthfully, although this acclimation was stressful at times, it was also more fun than I had had in ages and the day I bargained our groceries down to the normal hobbit price, all my work paid off in pride. Because this meant I was no longer considered a total stranger in the village and the very next morning, I asked Edel Proudfoot if I could negotiate the purchase of his forge.  
  
It took a great deal of haggling but eventually we reached a deal which satisfied us both and I ran back home to tell Bilbo the good news. However, when I arrived at Bag End, I stopped short in surprise for there was an enormous raven perched on our windowsill.  
  
A bird of such size could only be a messenger from Erebor, yet I could not imagine why he would be here when Fíli had definitely not forgiven me already and only the king and his advisers should have access to their roost. But my hobbit wouldn't have been smiling if the raven brought ill tidings, so I gathered my courage and continued up the path.  
  
“Greetings child of Durin,” The bird addressed me formally when I made myself known, his choice of words making me flinch. “My name is Mingal and I have been sent by my sire to be your messenger.”  
  
“Your sire? You mean Roäc? ” I asked, unable to understand why the ancient bird would have ordered this. “He does know that I've been banished from Erebor? And that I can never return as long as I refuse to give up my love for Bilbo here?”  
  
“What do ravens care about whom you love?” Mingal replied with a croaking laugh and a rustle of feathers which might have been a shrug. “You are a Durin by blood and now that the Lonely Mountain has been reclaimed, all Durins must have a courier. Those are the laws of my people and while I am young and unproven amongst my kin, I swear to serve you well. Do you have a missive for your king?”  
  
“No!” I could not stop myself from recoiling at his question, my mind filled with images of my brother's smugness should I break our silence first. To initiate contact was to imply forgiveness or that I might be in the wrong, and this was something which I simply could not do. I had not been the one to end us; I had never wanted to choose and if Fíli wished to speak with me again, he must first apologize.  
  
Though there were others to whom I would not mind writing and somehow I found the calm to ask, “Could I send a letter to some of my friends instead? They would be pleased to know that we've arrived.”  
  
“I do not know.” The raven told me and I felt my heart sink at his words. “My orders are to act as the link between you and the lord of Erebor but I may ask Roäc if such additional duties are allowed. However, I must have a message for the King Under the Mountain before I leave and I do not know when I will be able to return again.”  
  
“Then you shall have one,” My love cut in while I was still staring at Mingal in frustration, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and steering me inside. “If you would just give us a moment.” He told the raven politely and then led me deeper into the hobbit hole until we were out of hearing range.  
  
“Bilbo, I _can't!_ ” I exclaimed, rounding on him the moment that the bedroom door swung shut. While I was too distressed to explain properly, somehow my hobbit was able to understand my broken rambling, or perhaps he simply knew me that well.  
  
“I know Kíli, I know but it's all right.” Bilbo said softly. “Mingal must have a message but he did not say from whom and if I contact your brother, it should not count against your stance.”  
  
I had not thought of that and my hobbit's pragmatism cut through my worries as no simple reassurance could. The sudden relief made my knees go weak and I sat down on the edge of the bed, fighting the urge to giggle wildly. It was that or cry at the knowledge that my relationship with Fíli had come to this.  
  
But now that this crisis was averted, I recalled the news I had to share and I told my hobbit about buying Proudfoot's smithy while he penned a short note to send on raven wing. Although the building was plain and the forge was far simpler than those in Ered Luin or Erebor, it was sturdy and it was mine. Indeed I rather doubted that I would be doing anything too fancy for the simple folk of Hobbiton and I could improve my tools over time.  
  
So we sent Mingal off with his message and then spent the rest of the afternoon tending to less stressful tasks such as messing around in the garden and sorting through the mail. It was the usual combination of hopeful merchants and friendly invitations to visit for dinner, but while we had often accepted the later, tonight we decided to stay in instead.  
  
There was something wonderful about curling up by a crackling fire, my head in Bilbo's lap while he read one of his tales aloud and I needed the reassurance of our love right then. For thinking about Fíli still made me strangely insecure, strange because I did not regret my choice.  
  
No, my doubts focused on what my love could have seen in me; but as I lay there, listening to Bilbo's voice weave magic, all my worries disappeared for now.  
  
\---  
  
The next morning I rose early to begin setting up my shop, pressing a kiss to my hobbit's cheek before slipping out the door. My love rarely woke before breakfast unless it was required but I had always enjoyed watching the sun rise and I sipped a cup of tea on the porch while this new day dawned.  
  
Then I walked down to the marketplace, greeting the few hobbits I passed with a nod and smile before continuing on my way. At this time of day only the farmers were about and so when I reached my new property there was no one to watch me when I slipped the lock.  
  
Although I had called it a building earlier, this claim was actually something of an overstatement. In truth Hobbiton's smithy was simply a sturdier version of the other market stalls: three walls and a ceiling to call my own, blocked off by a series of wooden slats when closed. However, it held a forge, an anvil, plenty of charcoal and a basic set of tools which would be more than enough to start me off.  
  
Once I had earned a decent stack of coin, I would build myself something better and someday my smithy would rival any I had seen. But not yet because while my portion of the trolls' treasure had allowed me to purchase this, I wanted my new life to grow free from the old.  
  
Any money I spent now would be earned by my own hands and no one else's for I was no longer a prince to live off other's charity. Though there was one princely thing which I still had to do.  
  
So I nursed a fire in my forge until the coals were burning fiercely, the heat chasing the damp chill from the air. By this point the market was beginning to come to life around me and I started a couple simple projects to remind my hands of their skill. Some nails, a chain, a coat hook and indeed the first few were bent beyond repair. But soon I grew familiar with my tools and the ringing sound of my hammer drew curious glances from the people who passed by.  
  
While I did not receive any orders this first morning, I did not expect any, for hobbits were not known for rushing into things. Hobbits other than mine of course, but even now Bilbo was considered a little odd amongst his kin and that was why I loved him after all.  
  
Thus I was prepared to be patient and even if it took months to prove myself, it's not as though I lacked the time. In any case, my first order of business was to forge my hobbit's wedding band for no Durin had ever been married without a ring of his own making and Bilbo deserved no less than that.  
  
It took me almost a week to finish since mithril was an unforgiving metal and I did not have enough to waste. Not when this was the last of my inheritance, the small ingot entrusted to me when I came of age. This metal had been one of the few treasures rescued when our kingdom fell and was passed down from Thráin to his children before he disappeared. Then Frerin's had been lost at Azanulbizar, Thorin's given to my brother and Dís' had come to me.  
  
I could only hope that my mother would not condemn the way I chose to use it, _not that I have the courage to tell her anyway. But sometimes avoidance is the best solution for I cannot bear the thought of seeing disappointment in her eyes again._  
  
Though when I finally completed Bilbo's ring, I was not thinking about my family, only about how my hobbit would react. Because for some reason I was still nervous even after all we had been through and I wiped sweaty palms against my trousers before standing up. My love looked at me curiously when I stepped away from the table but there must have been some similarity in courting between our peoples for his eyes lit up the moment that I dropped to one knee.  
  
“I said that I was going to do this properly,” I began, pulling the mithril band from my waistcoat. “So Bilbo, love of my life, will you walk with me through cave and mountain and stand steady by my side? Will you wear this sign of my mastery which I shaped with the strength of my heart's passion and entwine our souls in partnership until Mahal rebuilds the world?”  
  
“Of course I will, Kíli,” He replied with a beaming smile, wiping tears of joy from his eyes. “And while I'm afraid I cannot remember all those lovely words to repeat them at the moment, I hope that you will do the same with me.”  
  
“Until the last sun dies,” I promised, slipping the ring onto his finger and kissing him to seal the vow.  
  
The band looked perfect there, shining brightly in the candlelight, and I felt something in me relax at the knowledge that we could not be parted now. For dwarves did not much bother with official engagements and while the hobbit ceremony still remained, in the eyes of my people we were husbands true. _Or we would be, if such unions were allowed._  
  
“This is truly lovely, Kíli,” Bilbo whispered while looking down at his ring and it warmed my heart to know that he saw beauty in my work. “Also you may have caught me unprepared, but I have something for you as well.”  
  
My hobbit went to his writing desk, pulling a small leather pouch from a secret drawer which I had never noticed and then spilling its contents across my hands.  
  
“These belonged to my parents,” He explained with a sad smile, looking down at the two golden rings cradled in my palm. “Neither of them will fit you but I would be honored if you would combine them into your wedding band.”  
  
“Bilbo, I couldn't,” I protested, the thought of destroying family heirlooms nearly anathema. But my hobbit would not accept them back, wrapping my fingers around them with a shake of his head.  
  
“No, I want you to do this, really. These rings have been kept in the dark with my memories for far too long and it is time for them to live again. My parents would have been honored to be part of our new life in this manner and they would have loved you just as I do if you had had the chance to meet.”  
  
I could hardly say no to such a plea, so I did as he asked and soon we were as wed as we could be in dwarven eyes.  
  
The sight of our new rings made the other hobbits offer both congratulations and jealous glances and my business tripled overnight. Indeed I became so busy that I began to run short on materials, which Bilbo took as an excuse to plan a trip to Bree. For while some traveling pedlars had the type of metal I required, their stocks were slim and usually low quality compared to the worst of dwarven ores. In contrast the human town was well-situated upon the trade routes and while many of those in Ered Luin had already moved east, enough dwarves remained in those hills to supply smiths like me.  
  
Thus even though we were still only engaged in the eyes of Bilbo's people, setting a date for our wedding never seemed to be a priority. The topic didn't even come up again until almost a month later, when Gandalf the Grey appeared on our doorstep once more.  
  
I must admit that I was slightly wary of his arrival since the wizard seemed to delight in disrupting other people's lives and he had certainly changed my hobbit's the last time he was here. But this turned out to be no more than a friendly visit on his way back east and there were no displaced princes, forgotten heroes or actual burglars to be seen.  
  
Instead we shared a quiet meal and watched the sunset from the porch, Gandalf making a production of his talent at smoke rings. The wizard also regaled us with tale of his journey to the north before asking how we were settling in and he seemed surprised to hear that we were not married yet.  
  
“Well we are by dwarven standards,” Bilbo told him with a sheepish grin. “But somehow we keep getting distracted before we set the Shire wedding date. Although, now that I think about it, a winter wedding would be lovely and that would give us lots of time to send some invitations out.”  
  
“Invitations?” The wizard asked and in so doing, doomed himself.  
  
“But of course. You _are_ heading east now, aren't you?” My hobbit replied with a touch of condescension. “I'm sure you wouldn't mind passing a few messages along. We can hardly go ourselves, our raven hasn't returned yet and it's not as though the postman would be willing to travel all the way to Erebor.”  
  
“Oh, um, my dear friend. There may have been a miscommunication. I am certainly heading east but I do not know if my travels will take me that far.” Gandalf stuttered, trying to weasel his way out of the request.  
  
However, Bilbo was having none of that and he pinned the wizard beneath an iron stare. “Then I'm sure you can find someone else to pass the message on. You do rather owe me after all.”  
  
Although Gandalf did not seem particularly happy about it, he eventually gave in and so my hobbit and I spent the rest of the evening writing out notes for him. There were not many, only the official notice to my brother and proper invitations to those members of our company who had seemed on our side. In truth, I was not sure if any of them would risk Fíli's wrath to attend but I wanted to share my happiness and let them know I was all right.  
  
So we settled on a date far enough in the future that our friends could reach us even if the wizard took the scenic route. Though he did promise to deliver them within three months in exchange for some Longbottom Leaf, leaving the next morning with a smile on his face and a song upon his tongue.  
  
Of course now the two of us needed to inform the Shirefolk of our decision and as much as I wished we could just run away instead, my hobbit assured me that eloping was not allowed. Instead we were required to make our announcement at a dinner party and then sit through a great deal of excited squealing about the romance of it all.  
  
However Bilbo managed to free us from any preparations by appointing Menegilda and his aunts to plan the thing and while they were bound to go a little overboard, at least we wouldn't have to be involved. For I much preferred spending time with my hobbit over spending time with them, lazy mornings and heated nights over hours with books of clothes and etiquette. Honestly, I never knew that wedding planning could be so involved and whenever I saw the hobbitesses' rictus grins, I was sure that we'd made the right choice.  
  
So while these ladies did attempt to ask our opinion from time to time, Bilbo and I made a game of avoiding their house calls, seeing who could come up with the most outrageous excuse for being busy and eventually his relatives just gave up.  
  
Although I had to wonder what kind of monster we'd unleashed when Menegilda shouted through the door, “We'll make it a day to remember lads, I promise you that,” and then cackled her way down the path.  
  
\---  
  
As the months passed, my business grew in leaps and bounds until I was known throughout the Shire as the person to turn to for all sorts of metalwork. I even started to expand into some wood carving, because while hobbits had their own masters in this craft, our styles were different enough to keep from clashing over customers.  
  
Indeed several of the oldest woodcarvers decided to take me under their wing, showing me some of their techniques in exchange for dwarven patterns and I tried not to think about the fact that ancient in hobbit terms was barely a hundred years.  
  
But that was a sorrow I did not need to face just yet and I refused to lose the joys of the present to the thought of future pain. Particularly now that our wedding was fast approaching and none of my companions had sent us a reply. Whatever their feelings, I had at least expected some acknowledgment and hoped that one or two of them might make the journey here. If nothing else, it would have been nice to have another dwarf around in order to draw the stares away from me.  
  
There was nothing malicious about them, _well other than Lobelia's,_ but I was still considered something exotic by many of these folk. Exotic and slightly incomprehensible for choosing to marry one of their own and I often heard the gossips wondering what I had seen in my hobbit, _or what he had seen in me_.  
  
However, just as I was finally resigning myself to meeting my wedding day without a shield-brother at my side, Mahal answered the prayers I had refused to make.  
  
I was in my forge that morning, finishing up the last repairs to Liza Greenhand's shears, when I heard a commotion coming from the north side of the marketplace. But the hobbits' voices sounded more excited than afraid so I put it from my mind to focus on the tricky bit of metalwork beneath my tongs.  
  
Which is why I nearly took out my hand and half the wall when I heard someone call my name.  
  
“Oh Kíli, just look at you,” A familiar voice cried out, a voice I had not thought to ever hear again. So I placed my hammer down carefully, staring at my anvil as though it held the secrets to the universe and told myself that it was just a trick of my tired mind.  
  
Though truthfully I was simply terrified. Terrified to discover that this was only a hallucination or that she had traveled all this way to say that I was wrong. But she must have been able to read these worries in my expression because moments later, I was enveloped in a fierce hug.  
  
“Mother?” I asked, my arms coming up to clutch at her shoulders and even though Dís only reached my chin these days, somehow I still felt small. Small and confused because I did not know what to do with this reaction when I had been expecting hatred on par with Fíli's for betraying our family name. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I talked to your brother,” was her reply and I could not keep from wincing at how that conversation must have gone. “And while I understand his actions, I do not agree with them. For I think we held too tightly to our past, teaching Fíli the pride of kingship without the gentleness and it is not your fault that you never fit into that mold. If anything it is ours for forcing you to hide the truth of who you are and while this is not the path I expected you to take, you are my son and you are unique and there is nothing wrong with that.”  
  
“Truly?”  
  
“Yes love, truly, and I am so sorry that we made you feel like this. I may have had some doubts at first but seeing what we created in your brother has shown me the error of our old ways.” Mother said softly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Now take me home and introduce me to this hobbit of yours.”  
  
The whole situation was rather surreal and the feeling that I must be dreaming only intensified when I saw the companions whom Dís had brought. For Bofur, Dori, Nori and Ori were all waiting outside my forge, along with a few guards I did not recognize.  
  
So the next few minutes were filled with greetings and congratulations, particularly once they noticed the ring upon my hand. Of course then I had to explain the differences between dwarven and hobbit weddings since mother was quite distressed to find that she had missed our vows and this conversation took us all the way to my front door.  
  
While the others had seen Bag End before and like it fine, I was greatly relieved when Dís appeared charmed by the sight of my home. But perhaps even proper dwarves could appreciate its cosiness and my companions clearly noted all the signs of my occupation that were not there before. They seemed particularly amused by my wardrobe once I changed out of my dirty smithing clothes and I elbowed Bofur in the side when he laughed.  
  
“They're actually quite comfortable,” I explained a bit defensively, smoothing the wrinkles from my shirt. “And if you're staying for the wedding, I'm sure Menegilda will force you into a waistcoat soon enough; that old hellion has definite ideas about the proper way to dress.”  
  
Nori just scoffed in response and there was a dwarf who would learn to regret his flippancy. However before I could go into greater detail about the terrifying nature of old hobbitesses, Bilbo walked through the door and I suddenly had other things on my mind. My hobbit was a bit startled to see everyone standing there but he recovered quickly to greet our former companions happily. Only once each of them had been hugged and fussed over did my love turn to me and the dwarrowdam at my side.  
  
“Hello ma'am, I don't believe we've met before,” He said calmly, his smile dimming not at whit beneath my mother's searching gaze. Only someone who knew him well would have seen that he was nervous by his refuge in formality. “Bilbo Baggins at your service.”  
  
“Dís, daughter of Thráin at yours,” She replied with a shallow curtsy. “I've come to see my son.”  
  
“It is good to meet you, Dís. Please make yourself at home for you and your companions are always welcome here and I know Kíli will be overjoyed to show you around,” My hobbit told her, before breaking away from his formal Shire manners to add with narrowed eyes, “Assuming of course, that you have arrived to offer your support instead of condemnation because we have had quite enough of that.”  
  
“Hah! You are a brave one, aren't you? So I suppose that you will do.” Mother nodded firmly and then patted Bilbo on the cheek. “Though if you do not treat my child right, we will be having a very different conversation later on.”  
  
“Now,” She continued, looking around the smial with the air of one surveying her domain, “What is this that I hear about wedding plans?”  
  
So we showed Dís and our friends to their guest rooms and then invited Menegilda and her cronies over to have supper that night. It seemed the safest way to introduce them to my mother, though I regretted this choice slightly when the conversation became dominated by the discussion of color choices and wedding décor. Because some things were universal and while the dwarrowdam did not always agree with what Menegilda's group suggested, she certainly enjoyed the arguments.  
  
Indeed now that she had arrived, I knew our marriage would end up as some crazy blend of traditions and would probably be talked about for generations to come. Which meant that once again, the safest course was to stay far out of their way.  
  
The other dwarves quite agreed with this plan of action and to my slight surprise, our former companions took to the Shire like elves to trees. So over the next weeks, Bofur often joined me in the smithy for he was a fair hand with a hammer and Ori and Bilbo bonded over ink and tales. Dori was a hit with both the fauntlings and their mothers, while Nori discovered Hobbiton's seedy underside somehow and even mother's guards found ways to pass the time.  
  
Thus it seemed like only a blink of an eye before the day was upon us and I could hardly sleep that night for the butterflies in my gut. But eventually exhaustion dragged me down and I managed to snag a few hours of rest before I was shaken awake again.  
  
The sun hadn't even risen yet so my hobbit grumbled mightily as Dís ordered us out of bed and I wasn't particularly overjoyed myself. My mood soured further when mother separated us but the stern glare she sent me stifled any objections in my throat. Apparently hobbit tradition required the couple to undergo their preparations in different locations and only be reunited when the ceremony began.  
  
Bilbo said that the tradition began as a way to keep young couples from starting their celebrations early, which made it a rather silly thing to hold me and my hobbit to. We'd been sharing each other's beds for months already so if that was bad luck then we were already doomed.  
  
 _As are quite a few young hobbits if I haven't missed my guess. Though I suppose there are some benefits to this practice as well,_ I thought as my mother started giving me advice on how to make our wedding night memorable. The last thing I wanted was for Bilbo to hear any of her suggestions since our sex life was just fine and that conversation might actually make me die of embarrassment.  
  
Anyway I was much more interested in the vows I needed to memorize, ten short lines written on the paper in Bofur's hands. He read them off to me while Dís fussed with my clothes and by the time mother pronounced herself satisfied several hours later, I had learned them fairly well. Any more than that was unnecessary since the whole point of a shield-brother was to remind the groom of his place when he stumbled and I had four on my side.  
  
Them and my mother who now grabbed me by the shoulders and moved me in front of the mirror to show off her handiwork. She and Menegilda must have come to some kind of agreement because my clothes were made in the dwarven style, if much fancier than any I had ever owned, and I wondered if Dís had brought them with her from Erebor. Certainly we had never worn such lush velvets in Ered Luin for we were too busy working and it wasn't common to see fabric in this particular shade of blue. I actually thought that I looked slightly ridiculous dressed up in such finery, my haired tamed from its usual wild mane into something more presentable.  
  
However, I could not refuse my mother's gift when this clothing marked me as one of Durin's line to dwarven eyes. It meant I would be married with the blessing of my family for even if Fíli was now king, Dís still claimed seniority.  
  
Then it was time.  
  
My mother led me and my companions out of the smial, our small procession walking to the Party Tree along the path the crowd laid out. They were packed three deep along our route, everyone cheering wildly while dressed in their winter finery and I was sure that many of them had started the celebration before they came. Once we passed by, the hobbits fell in behind us in a raucous mass and the whole lot poured into the field beneath the Party Tree.  
  
This area had been completely transformed by our friends' hard work: the last snowfall brushed off the grass and shaped into sculptures, colorful tents and streamers raised above the gathering and mugs of hot cider for each guest to warm their hands. Yet as impressive as it was, the moment I caught sight of my hobbit, I had eyes for nothing else.  
  
For Bilbo stood beneath the Party Tree, dressed in deep green and yellow which made his pink cheeks shine. His clothes were just as fancy as mine though in the usual hobbit style and he was the most beautiful thing which I had ever seen. But then again, he always was.  
  
So I took his hands in mine, entranced by the way his eyes sparkled and stood before our friends and family to pledge our lives again. Though I started to wish that I had paid a little more attention to the planning once the ceremony started because then I might have known what was going on. However, Bofur nudged me whenever I needed to speak and I was in good company for Bilbo kept missing his mark as well.  
  
But while Menegilda shook her head at us in exasperation, I found my hobbit's sheepish smile adorable and he told me later that it was entirely my fault anyway. Apparently the sight of my finery had scrambled his mind and my burglar was surprised that he made it through at all.  
  
“Before the eyes of Yavanna and all her brethren, I will walk with you through every season and help you when you fall. I will support you through times of plenty and privation and as long as I am breathing, hunger will never live within our walls.”  
  
With these final words, I placed Bilbo's ring back on his finger and then held out my hand for him to do the same before leaning down to kiss my husband soundly. Our guests cheered wildly, Dori and Bofur the loudest of the lot, and now the party could finally begin. And what a party for the food was plentiful, the drink flowed like like water and the musicians were enthusiastic players if not overly skilled.  
  
So we danced and ate and wiled away the hours playing in the snow like children for I could never resist my hobbit when he giggled like that. But eventually the party-goers declared that it was time for us to leave, sending us back to our bedroom in a cloud of winter blossoms and innuendo and this was one tradition which I was happy to oblige.  
  
Because when Bilbo and I were finally alone again, nothing but love and passion there between us, I had to pause for a moment to thank the Valar for the hobbit in my arms. Then I went back to kissing my husband, hands roaming over familiar patterns to bring us both to ecstasy.  
  
Once we had finished and I was laying in our bed with my hobbit curled up against my side, I found myself thinking that in some ways this marked the true beginning of our lives together. Certainly the Shirefolk saw it like that and yet at the same time, this event was just one more step on our long road together which had started over a year before. For how could this prove our love when there was never any doubt and I would have lived for Bilbo anyway?  
  
But such philosophy was not my bent and so I brushed these thoughts from my mind. In truth it hardly mattered when this relationship had started; what mattered now was that it would not end and it had been nice to have our friends and family acknowledge the commitment we had made.  
  
Not long after our wedding, the other dwarves decided to move on for they needed to return to their responsibilities in Erebor, traveling by way of Ered Luin to justify the trip. But they stayed long enough to pass on their wedding gifts: Dori and Ori's intricate knitting, Bofur's silver bracelets and Nori's concealed lock picks, “just in case.” While Bilbo seemed a little unclear on the concept of receiving presents, he was well-versed in politeness and we thanked our friends sincerely for their thoughtfulness.  
  
Even mother had a few more things to offer us, above and beyond all that she'd already done, and when she finished there were dwarven heirlooms mixed in with those already on the mantelpiece. Nothing that would be missed by Fíli, but items which warmed my heart nonetheless such as my first wooden toy and the hearth cup from our home in the West.  
  
If this were not enough already, the other dwarves had also brought gifts from some of our former companions who could not come themselves. A dagger from Dwalin with a reminder not to let myself go soft, a book of recipes from Bombur with all my favorite foods, copies of some of Erebor's library for my hobbit and a flask of aged wine from Glóin for the two of us to share. Each was a blessing on the life I'd chosen and the grace they offered me would live on in memory.  
  
Though it was still a somewhat tearful goodbye since I did not know if I would see my friends again and I hugged my mother tightly while the ponies were being saddled up. Then Bilbo and I stood on the porch to watch our friends leave, trading cloth-packed lunches for promises to write, and we waved until they rode around the bend.  
  
Then we ducked back through the door to our smial and returned to the usual rhythm of our lives.  
  
\---  
  
Mingal came back a few weeks later, alighting on the the windowsill without a word of explanation for his long absence and yellow eyes glared at me when I asked. But Roäc had given him permission to carry letters to dwarves other than my brother so I could live with his ill mood.  
  
While mother and her companions would not be back in Erebor for months yet, we sent the raven off with notes for Dwalin and the others who had not made the trip themselves. Their kindness deserved recognition whatever their motivations and I truly wanted to know how they were settling in. Besides Glóin's son was a dear friend of mine, one of the few that Fíli had not tried to chase away, though my brother probably would have if he had known just what we got up to when Gimli visited.  
  
But with Mingal as my messenger I could ensure that my letter did not reach the wrong hands and my friend would want to know about Bilbo since he had sometimes wondered if dwarves like us could love. Now I had proof that our hearts were no less than any other and perhaps this would give him hope.  
  
 _Though I don't know how he could doubt it with the way that Dwalin pined: ever steadfast, ever loyal and ever unrequited in the end._ I wasn't sure how the warrior would be coping now but he had always found refuge in duty and perhaps our contact will do him some good as well.  
  
So when the raven returned a few months later, several messages tied to his legs, I could hardly wait to read the replies. Those from Glóin and Bombur simply sent best wishes from them and their families, though they included some interesting gossip from the halls of Erebor as well. Apparently my brother had begun searching for a wife, which did not much surprise me since Fíli was never one to be second in anything.  
  
Dwalin's letter was more reticent, focusing on the repairs and technical difficulties of restoring the Lonely Mountain to its former shine. But the warrior had always hid his emotions stoically so I had practice at reading between the lines and although he was melancholy, he had not given up.  
  
In contrast Gimli was excited, his words spilling out in a slew of questions and congratulations and here at last was someone who truly wanted to know everything.  
  
  
 _Kíli!  
  
I can't believe you didn't write me sooner and with this news to share. What is it like to be in love? Is it as glorious as all the stories say? And that explains why Fíli won't talk about you and snarled at me when I asked. Do you think my father would react the same way? But your mother came to your wedding so I guess there's hope for me yet and maybe your brother will relax over time.  
  
So tell me about Bilbo. Why him? Is he cute? And I should have known that you'd do something crazy like fall in love with another race entirely. Though if his people truly accept such relationships as you say, maybe I'm a little jealous as well. That would certainly be nicer than having to hide all the time.  
  
Now you have to tell me everything!_  
  
  
His letter read like this for pages, question upon question, and I answered them because I could never resist a chance to brag about my hobbit's charms. Besides Gimli was young yet, though he would hate me for saying this since there were not that many years between us, and I did not want him to think that who we were was wrong. After all, our people would never change if those who were different simply accepted the status quo without complaint and some part of my heart still hoped to go back for a visit some day.  
  
When I finished writing out my replies, I sent them on with our raven and this was the pattern of our lives for many years. I spent my mornings at the smithy and my afternoons with Bilbo, except for those days when neither of us ever left the bed.  
  
Out in Hobbiton, our neighbors had started greeting me by name and several of my husband's relatives were always dropping in to visit, their children sitting at my feet and demanding stories of the outside world. With their parents' permission I indulged them, spinning tales of the wonders I had seen while glossing over some of the dangerous bits. Not entirely because I did not want them to rush off without thought to their own safety, but there was no need to traumatize the brats for life.  
  
Every few months Mingal would return with another batch of messages and letters, nearly more than he could carry after my mother's group arrived back home. Since the wedding notice neither Bilbo nor I had written anything to my brother, largely because he had not chosen to reply and I was no longer the type to beat my head against a wall I could not break. But when mother informed us that he would soon marry the daughter of Rundím, this pattern changed.  
  
Because on hearing this news we had to send Fíli our congratulations whether he wanted them or not and although my hobbit wrote the letter, I truly meant the sentiment. From then on Bilbo continued a strange sort of one-sided correspondence with my brother, sending random thoughts and news and wishes while receiving nothing in return.  
  
However, my hobbit persisted anyway, stubborn bastard that he was, and I left him to his efforts without argument. There was no reason to stop him and in truth, this gave me hope because whatever my brother's feelings on me, we were still connected by raven wing. So the King Under the Mountain would never be able to forget me just as I would never forget him. Besides, even if I did not hate him, I was still rather bitter and I quite enjoyed the thought of forcing Fíli to face what he had done.  
  
Though as the years passed and my roots spread deep within the Shire, even this bitterness began to pass. There was too much else to focus on, too much to be proud of, and eventually I began to go months without thinking of my brother at all.  
  
Instead I thought of forging and surprises for my hobbit, picnics and tumbles in the grass. After a few years I had saved enough to rebuild my smithy exactly as I wanted, a proper dwarven forge indeed, and that project occupied my hands for months. But when it was finished, I had something that I was truly proud of and now I could tackle the complicated metalwork of which I had dreamed. So the first thing I did was build Bilbo the clock that he had always wanted and I finished it just in time for our anniversary.  
  
That was a night to remember.  
  
As were many of our evenings, afternoons, and mornings for while people always said that familiarity bred contempt, our passion just kept burning higher. How could I become bored when my hobbit was as adventurous in this as in all things and continually caught me by surprise?  
  
Although Bilbo did become antsy from time to time, that old wanderlust taking hold again and no matter how I loved the Shire, I carried the same streak. So when it grew too strong, I would close my smithy for a few weeks and we would wander until Bag End called us home again. North toward Evendim and south along the Brandywine, we traveled through hills and dales and forests and enjoyed it all.  
  
I even took my husband to the Blue Mountains one summer, showing him the places I had loved as a child and Fíli must have kept my banishment a secret for the dwarves we met greeted us with hospitality.  
  
Sometimes this mood would strike in winter when traveling was less feasible and during those times I began to teach Bilbo archery. My hobbit took to it rather well once I had carved a bow to fit his stature, hitting most of what he aimed at even if he could not match my skill. When he was good enough, the two of us began to go hunting and soon we became known throughout Hobbiton for always having meat to share.  
  
These lessons also made me think about how to protect my new home from danger, because I had heard about the Fell Winter and never wished to see blood spilled in these lands again. So I went to the Thain for permission to teach others how to fight.  
  
When he agreed it caused a backlash among some of the older hobbits but Bilbo supported me in my efforts and I was not short on volunteers. Even some of the older generation decided to join me for they remembered well their helplessness and soon no one looked twice at our militia practicing. I focused on bows since most hobbits were more suited to ranged weapons, they could be used for hunting as well as killing and they had the added advantage of being far easier to replace. For the wood carvers who lived in the Shire found Bilbo's weapon easy enough to copy and this way the safety of our home would not fall on me alone.  
  
It made me proud to see my students grow in skill and confidence and I slept easier knowing that our home was not unprotected when we were traveling. Well, safe from outside forces at least, for Lobelia still coveted our smial and I would often find silverware missing after she came to tea.  
  
By this point the hobbitess had married Bilbo's cousin Otho and become part of the family, but that wasn't why my husband always invited her. No, he seemed to enjoy their verbal sparring, dislike transmuted to a strange sort of rivalry which entertained them both. So while I didn't exactly understand it, I always tried to greet Lobelia politely since I appreciated anything that made my hobbit grin like that.  
  
Around this time Bofur and Nori showed up again for an impromptu visit and I put them to work. It was good for my students to learn other forms of fighting and these two were the masters of improvised weapons so my hobbits were in good hands. By the time they finished, the most talented of the militia were deadly with everything from garden shears to shovels and these skills would serve them well.  
  
That was also the month that I learned that I was soon to be an uncle and when Fíli's son was born, my prayers went out to him. Allow the lad to grow up loved and treasured by his family and never doubt the place he held.  
  
Though it also made me sad to know that Jilí might never learn that I existed, let alone meet me face to face. He was my nephew and yet we would be nothing to each other if my brother had his way.  
  
That was a bad year all around for thoughts of Fíli kept striking me in quiet moments, leaving my heart bleeding with wounds I could not staunch. To make matters worse, Bilbo found his first grey hairs, a little thing which reminded me of his mortality and I began to have nightmares of him slipping through my hands. I woke gasping from visions of my husband dead or walking away from me once more and these dreams tainted my happiness.  
  
For who knew how long I had left with my hobbit and as much as Bilbo tried to help, he could not calm my fear. So we started fighting from the stress of our worries, the quirks which had been cute suddenly turning to aggravation and those who love you know how to hurt you most. I even began to hate that ring of his, became jealous of how much he cared about it, and sometimes I wanted to rip it from his hands.  
  
But although it seemed chancy for awhile, we survived somehow. We survived because both of us were too damn stubborn to give up.  
  
So we talked when we felt more like screaming, we listened when we wanted to fight and eventually we found our balance again. I think we had become somewhat complacent after years together and now we had to relearn the art of compromise. Yet in the end, Bilbo and I were stronger for it and I began to remember that I had a right to happiness.  
  
Thus the two of us returned to living in the moment, focusing on joy and love and laughter instead of what the future held. For if I had learned anything from growing up in exile, it was that death could wait around any corner and I refused to lose my hobbit before the very moment that I must.  
  
Whatever mistakes the two of us had made, and in the last year there were plenty, we had not been defeated by our doubts. Just as the flowers bloom even after the harshest winter, our love would grow with forgiveness and I could ask for no more than that. So Bilbo and I went to every wedding and dinner party with a smile in our hearts and while I had never been a dancer, I let hope fill the music which I played.  
  
For even with all the hurt that we had caused each other, the joy outweighed the pain and I knew our lives were truly blessed. So as the years passed we still fought from time to time but we never allowed our arguments to fester again, not when we had learned from our mistakes.  
  
Therefore when Fíli's wife bore him twin daughters, Frísa and Freyda, I did not allow myself to fall into depression over thoughts of what might have been. This was my life not any other and I would treasure it even if some things were not as I might wish. This was my family and I would love my nieces from afar even if I was never allowed to see them for myself. So I used the last of my mithril to forge them tokens of my blessing, two pendants for my youngest kin.  
  
We sent them on with Mingal and Bilbo's latest message and I could only hope that my brother would pass them on. _Maybe he is as tired of this rift as I am and will finally let his anger fall. Maybe this time he will respond._  
  
However when Fíli failed to reply once more, I did not dwell on it because I refused to allow my brother's issues to dictate my happiness again.  
  
And I was happy as the years continued to roll by, I was happy with the life which I had made. For I had love and friendship and respect for my skills and even acceptance from those I walked among. Though I never did stop hoping and one spring over thirty years after I had last seen my brother, everything changed once more.  
  
Because when Bofur arrived for another one of his visits, the dwarf handed me a sealed message which bore the royal mark. After all these years, Fíli had made the first move as my heart demanded and my fingers trembled when I unrolled the note.  
  
 _I am sorry, Kíli, sorry for everything. I hope one day you will forgive the wrong I've done you and allow me the honor of introducing my family to yours._  



	7. Serenity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life moves on.

Fíli wrote nothing more, no excuses offered for his actions, and I could hardly believe that this day had finally come. Because this was an unconditional surrender, the first true chance to heal the broken halves of my family and meet the children who bore my brother's face.  
  
But even though this was the peace offering that I had been hoping to receive for decades, I could not accept his invitation without qualms. There were too many years between us, too many old scars buried beneath the skin and I needed to think on what to do. So I left Bofur and my hobbit to catch up with each other, grabbing my bow and quiver off the mantelpiece before slipping out the front door.  
  
Shooting always helped to clear my head, the familiar motions allowing me to focus through the cobwebs in my mind. A breath for each arrow, each nock and draw and flight, and by the time I emptied my quiver, I had decided what to do.  
  
While I would respond to Fíli's overture with a message of my own, an action that had never truly been in doubt, my brother would have to earn my faith again. He had to prove that he was serious, heart and mind and soul, because I could not trust Bilbo's safety to any less than that. Not when he was my reason for waking up each morning and the one greatest treasure in my life.  
  
So although my response was hopeful, there was wariness as well, and I had to wonder if my brother would continue to write once he realized how far he had to tread.  
  
  
 _I have waited half my life to hear these words from you and receiving them now makes my heart burst with joy. But neither of us is the person we once were so I wish to hear more about your life before making the long journey back to Erebor._  
  
  
However, Fíli didn't seem to mind my reticence, surprising me once again with his willingness to work for my forgiveness, and soon we were sending scores of letters back and forth on Mingal's inky wings. He told me of his children, his heir and twin daughters, while I wrote of the life I'd created for myself in Hobbiton. Through those long months of correspondence, we finally grew to know one another as the facade of lies and hatred fell away beneath our pens and I found that I liked the person whom my brother had become.  
  
He was more thoughtful than I remembered and yet also somehow freer, his duty no longer the same crushing weight upon his chest. Now his kingship glowed within him like a beacon, the love Fíli held for his family and his people shining clearly through every word he wrote.  
  
So how could I hold onto my suspicion when my brother spoke of his children as though they were miracles? How could I deny that I wanted to meet this new Fíli for myself?  
  
Because I did. I wanted to hug him tight and plan out pranks like we did in bygone days. Yet even with this new realization washing away the last of my bitterness, it was decades before my desire could be fulfilled, decades before fate finally turned our way.  
  
Whether it was bad luck or destiny which stymied us I cannot say, for it was not just one disaster which ruined all our plans. Instead it was a series of little things: a feud between mining clans that kept Fíli locked in negotiations, a crop blight which nearly caused a famine in the east, and wild rumors of dragons attacking the Iron Hills. Indeed we would overcome one obstacle only for another to appear in its place and I began to think that Mahal did not want my brother to leave Erebor.  
  
But I did not want to make the journey in his place. It was selfish of me, but I wanted to show off how well I'd done without him. I wanted to show my nieces and nephew the beauty of the Shire, to show them that there was joy in peace as well as glory and see their faces at a proper banquet feast.  
  
Though this was not the only reason for my reluctance because while time lay lightly on my hobbit, the years had not passed by without a mark. He was getting old, my Bilbo, and I could not help but worry that the journey back to the Lonely Mountain might be too much for his heart. I worried even though my husband was still able to outlast me and so I contented myself with letters for a time.  
  
However, the desire to see my family was only growing stronger and after several years, Bilbo and I decided that the risk would be acceptable. For my hobbit still dreamed of having one last adventure and perhaps it would be safer for everyone if his young cousins were kept far away from the future king of Erebor. The lads were already chaos personified and adding new blood to the mix might bring the smial down around our ears.  
  
But just when we had finally begun to plan our journey, tragedy struck our family and all thoughts of leaving were silenced instantly.  
  
\---  
  
For Drogo Baggins and his wife Primula had gone boating on the Brandywine one summer morning, leaving their young son Frodo in our care. The couple often did this when we weren't traveling and they wanted some time alone, the two of us always happy to oblige. After all, their child was adorable and had always been one of Bilbo's favorite relatives due to their shared wonder so it was no hardship for him to spend many rapt hours sitting at my hobbit's knee.  
  
In truth that day seemed no different than any other, my husband spinning tales of adventure in the kitchen while showing Frodo how to peel carrots properly. But just as his story was reaching Bard's climactic fight with Smaug the Terrible, we were interrupted by a knocking at the door.  
  
A soft sound, too quiet for the news it brought, and I would never forget the noise the fauntling made when told that his parents were never coming home. They had disappeared upon the river, their boat washing up almost a league downstream, and Frodo's wail cut through me like a dagger's blade.  
  
Watching him sob in Bilbo's arms, bright curls tangled with dark, I could feel my heart breaking and I could not refuse when my husband turned pleading eyes my way. How could I when the poor child had nowhere else to go, all his other relatives busy with families of their own? I could not have lived with myself if I had been so cruel and even though this choice kept me from my brother, I never regretted making it.  
  
Because despite the terror that filled me at the thought of holding such a young life in our charge, there was also pride and joy in this responsibility.  
  
There was pride in seeing Frodo smile for the first time since he was orphaned and knowing that I had helped to ease his endless grief. There was joy in teaching, comfort in mourning shared, and the two of us adapted to our new circumstances as all new parents must.  
  
Though I have to admit that there were some things I did not adapt to quite so well. For while I could live without the sleeping and the freedom, I sorely missed the ability to claim my hobbit anywhere I pleased. I missed bending him across the kitchen table and licking him open until he was panting beneath my tongue and fingers, begging desperately for anything that would bring him to release.  
  
I missed pressing into Bilbo while he moaned beneath me, hands scrabbling against the wood with every thrust. I missed laying down by the fire and allowing my hobbit to ride me languidly, his skin glowing in the soft light of the flame. But there was something to be said for the thrill of sneaking around as well, stolen kisses when Frodo's back was turned.  
  
So we lived and we loved and we made a new family from the remnants of the old.  
  
I taught the lad archery and Iglishmêk in the evenings while my husband made sure that he could cook and read and write and from both his parents he gained an appreciation for myth and history. This was only heightened by the stories Gandalf spun when he was visiting, the wizard often stopping by for food and fireworks. He would talk about his travels while Frodo hung on every word because the lad was smart and quick and curious and I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone but my hobbit in this world.  
  
“I almost feel guilty about how much I adore him,” I whispered to Bilbo one evening after we had lain the fauntling down to sleep. “I feel guilty that his parents had to die to let our family be complete.”  
  
“I know,” My hobbit responded, laying his head upon my shoulder with a sigh. “And sometimes I feel the same. But their deaths were not of our making and we are honoring their memory as best we can. Drogo and Primula will rest easier knowing that their son is in good hands.”  
  
“I hope you're right,” I whispered, the thought relieving some of my guilt as I leaned down to give him a kiss goodnight. Whatever else we might have said was lost when that kiss deepened into something far more urgent and soon there was only passion on my mind.  
  
But his words stayed with me and I often thought of Frodo's parents during the months that followed, wondering what they would think of the choices that we made.  
  
Until I decided that it didn't matter since the lad was ours by bonding if not blood and my letters to Fíli were as proud as they could be. I probably annoyed him with my gushing but it was fair turnabout for the stories of his son and daughters and the antics of our children gave us much to talk about. For Frodo had a mischievous streak a mile wide and cousins who always led him into trouble while my brother's three were a handful in their own right. Particularly his youngest who seemed to have a knack for finding herself in unlikely situations and some of her adventures had my hobbit and I in tears.  
  
It was good to know that Fíli had such joy in his life to balance out the hardships since the struggles of kingship never seemed to end. Every year there was an iron shortage or some other diplomatic crisis and his court nearly collapsed when our friends left Erebor to seek their dreams in Khazad-dûm.  
  
So of course my brother could not leave the Lonely Mountain, just as we could not take a fauntling with us on the road. But time moved on inescapably and eventually that fauntling grew up. Frodo grew up strong and capable and my hobbit began to speak of adventuring again. One more adventure before his time on Arda ended; one last adventure before we had to say goodbye.  
  
\---  
  
By this time Jilí had also grown enough that Fíli felt comfortable leaving his heir in charge of his kingdom, provided that his wife was there to offer counsel, and between the two of us, we hashed out a new plan.  
  
Though it was Bilbo who decided that we should leave the Shire with a spectacle, a party to remember long after we were gone. Not that I could really judge him for the decision when I was right there with him, going over every detail to make their shared birthday shine. Because this was Frodo's majority and my husband's eleventy-first year and I did not know when or if the three of us would all be home again. For as much as our son dreamed of adventure, his heart was tied to Hobbiton and this trip was not for him.  
  
So while Frodo was disappointed, the promise of Bag End helped to soothe his spirits and he threw himself into the planning with a will. Everyone was invited: Brandybucks, Tooks, Bolgers and Boffins and even Lobelia received an invitation to come sneer at everyone. That's what the hobbitess enjoyed after all and a party should be fun for every single person there.  
  
Our guests certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves once the day finally arrived, food and drink flowing freely amidst the dancing and the song. Though Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took proved themselves troublemakers once again when they caused a minor panic with one of Gandalf's wilder creations, a sparkling dragon that soared over the gathering with flame-tinged wings. But our guests were quick to forgive the interruption once the beast burst into a tapestry of light and their gasps of awe helped to ease the pounding of my heart.  
  
“Just a fake, love,” Bilbo whispered, offering me a flagon to ease my twitching nerves. “Smaug is still long dead and buried and there are no dragons here.”  
  
I didn't know how he could be so calm when my instincts were screaming for a weapon but perhaps after facing the true monster, no pale ghost could trouble him. So I allowed my husband to draw me back into mingling and watching him in his element soon set my mind to rights.  
  
For my hobbit was a natural entertainer, always happiest with an audience to play to, and this night was no different from the rest. Though I was thankful that I had managed to rein in some of his more outlandish ideas in the planning stages because there was a fine line between memorable and gaudy, one which Bilbo sometimes strayed across.  
  
 _Turning invisible and sneaking out of your own party without so much as a goodbye, definitely tacky, particularly when he'd be leaving me behind._  
  
Unfortunately, I hadn't been able to talk my way out of the speeches and all too soon we were herded up on stage before an expectant crowd. Despite how long I had been living in the Shire, I still hated public speaking because I knew that every word I said would be ripped apart during the next day's tea. But Bilbo knew how to soften up his family and they were drunk enough to be forgiving of my mistakes.  
  
So I allowed my husband to pull me forward, taking courage from his quiet strength at my back.  
  
“You should all know by now that I'm not very good at this,” I told the gathered hobbits to a peal of drunken laughter. “But tonight I'm going to try to give you the speech that you deserve. Because I want to thank you for everything you've done over these last decades, welcoming me into your hearts and homes. You have no idea how much it means to call you all my family after being cast out of Erebor and I never thought that I would get this chance. I never thought that Bilbo and I would be granted the joy of a child to call our own and while I am sorry for the circumstances, I have never regretted being here to see the person he's become.  
  
And now it's time for my husband and I to return home for a while, leaving Bag End in our son's capable hands. Please treat him with the same love and care that you always have before and remember us while we are gone. Now, eat and drink and help us celebrate Frodo's majority.”  
  
I had to blink away tears when I finished, a wave of love rushing over me for my adopted kin. However, it was our son's beaming smile that threatened to ruin the last of my composure and I buried my face in his dark hair as he returned my hug. Though he was adult enough now to be embarrassed by such parental attention, shoving me off after a few moments with a mortified cry of “Dad!”  
  
 _I'm going to miss you, kid,_ I thought with a pang, but this was the best thing for everyone. Particularly for my hobbit who had been in a strange mood the last few years, his personality flipping between his usual good-natured cheer and an obsession with that ring he'd found.  
  
This fixation worried me because it was too much like my uncle's madness and I did what I could to take his mind off of the thing. But there was something inescapable about that damn gold circle, something which drew the eye like a beacon, and the avarice it woke in my own heart disturbed me all the more. Thus I was overjoyed when Bilbo swore that he would be leaving it behind.  
  
Though for a moment I thought that his resolve would fail us because it took Gandalf's intervention to make him let the treasure go. Ever so slowly my love opened his fingers and the metal landed with a thud that chilled my bones.  
  
That sound shattered the last web of longing in my spirit and I wrapped my arm around Bilbo to lead him out the door. My hobbit looked back only once before Bag End passed out of sight, one last glance at the home we had created before he turned toward the future with a whistle and a grin. His steps were lighter, his smile brighter than I had seen in months and I joined in when he broke into song.  
  
“The Road goes ever on and on,  
Down from the door where it began.  
Now far ahead the Road has gone,  
And I must follow, if I can,  
Pursuing it with eager feet,  
Until it joins some larger way  
Where many paths and errands meet.  
And whither then? I cannot say.”  
  
\---  
  
The trek east to Rivendell was slow and peaceful with no hint of urgency to dog our steps this time. Instead we spent our evenings wrapped up in each other and our days remembering the many reasons that the two of us fell in love.  
  
Though as blissful as the journey was, I could not deny being nervous when Elrond's house began to near. For while the elf lord had been kind to us during our previous meetings and I was looking forward to making his people blush again, the anticipation of seeing Fíli kept me twisted up inside.  
  
Yet the nerves were nothing compared to the joy of my brother's arrival and I barely had time to worry before I was wrapped up in his arms.  
  
Fíli hugged me tightly, a soft stream of apologies whispered in my ear, and I held onto him just as fiercely until we finally drew apart. He had matured over the six decades we were parted, his beard now full and regal and a proud gleam in his eyes. But I could still see my brother in the quirk of his smile and I knew then that we would be all right.  
  
We would be family again and I drew Bilbo forward to reintroduce them properly. Though at the sight of the hobbit, Fíli flinched back sharply and I could understand his shock once I looked at my husband through a stranger's eyes.  
  
For while his aging had been a gradual thing to one who saw him daily, there was little to recognize of our burglar now. Sixty years had made him ancient by a hobbit's standards even as my brother and I were only in our primes. But while it must have been a harsh reminder of the fate that I was bound to follow, Fíli managed to pull himself together quickly, reaching out to hug Bilbo as well. If his gaze held a hint of sorrow when he looked at me over my hobbit's shoulder, I could not hold that against him, not when I still felt the same shadow in my mind.  
  
Besides, it did not truly matter if he still wished that my choices had been different because I could not begrudge my older brother the need to spare me pain. What mattered was Fíli's acceptance of my hobbit despite his misgivings and over the journey back to Erebor, he and Bilbo tried.  
  
The two of them would probably never be close friends, but they gained a new appreciation for each other and by the time we reached the Lonely Mountain, I no longer worried about leaving them alone. For whatever my brother had done to sabotage us in the past, there was no risk of this anymore.  
  
Although I had to laugh when we arrived at the gates of Erebor and Fíli's wife took to Bilbo like the best friend he'd ever had. Helva was a lovely dwarrowdam, stocky and graceful like a queen should be, and she looked at her husband with a quiet love that was more powerful than any grand declaration in my eyes.  
  
Beautiful and formidable as she took charge of our road-worn party, though not before wrapping my hobbit and I into a warm embrace. When she released me with a kiss upon the cheek, I turned to meet my nieces and nephew and the sight of them took my breath away. For while his daughters were as different as night and day, both his girls were beautiful and wearing the pendants I had made. Jilí too was a handsome lad in my completely biased view, biased because I could see Fíli in all three of them – his eyes, his nose, his stubborn chin. Though that last might have been from Helva because there was a hint of steel beneath her friendly gaze and I knew that my brother had chosen his queen well.  
  
Indeed Jilí and Frísa both took after their mother's subtle strength, a proper prince and princess of Erebor, and I listened with interest as they told me of their lives. But it was Freyda in whom I could see a true kindred spirit since there was something wild within my niece's heart.  
  
Something wild and unique amidst the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and her gaze was wondering as she looked up at me. I knew that I must be quite a picture in my strange hybrid clothes but the only thing on her face was admiration for all the places I had seen. Because this was a lass with dreams of adventure and she was going to run Fíli ragged before she was done.  
  
Indeed Freyda's current preoccupation was stealing Thranduil's steed on his next diplomatic visit and using it to sneak into the Mirkwood beneath his guards' watchful eyes. So I listened happily to her chatter as she expounded on all the different methods that she had tried already, offering suggestions here and there while her siblings strode on more tamely at my side.  
  
But for all her enthusiasm, my niece's glee paled in comparison to the cries of our companions when they caught sight of my hobbit and I. Bofur was the first to reach us, sweeping Bilbo off his feet with the force of his embrace, and I nearly toppled as well when Dwalin reached my side.  
  
Soon we were lost in a sea of laughter and introductions while each of our friends drew forth their families and their wives. For Bombur and Bifur and Nori and Dori had all found dwarrowdams with whom to share their lives and even those of our companions who had not married looked far more content than before. Peace was good for them, peace and the chance to be useful, and I was only sorry that Balin and Ori were not here to see this day. However, while I missed the friends who had gone to Khazad-dûm, the chance to see Gimli and my mother helped to ease the sting that their absence left behind.  
  
In truth, the only sour notes of the morning were the expressions on some nobles' faces when Fíli announced Bilbo as my husband and I was not too worried about that. Because decades in the Shire had taught me well and compared to deciphering Lobelia's hidden insults, the court of Erebor was child's play.  
  
We actually made a game of it with points scored for every old bigot that we could make apoplectic and double for each that changed his mind. Thus a few months after our arrival, even those who hated us had learned to mind their tongues and while my hobbit won our contest, I was not all that far behind.  
  
 _Like lambs to slaughter,_ was the only way to describe it and I found great amusement in watching Bilbo slice each potential challenger to shreds. They would stagger away beneath the onslaught of his clever tongue, dazed and confused by what had just happened, and no one could deny that we earned our place at Fíli's side.  
  
Although I think everyone was still relieved when we didn't claim it very often, only throwing on our finery for the most important diplomatic meetings and holy days. Because even my new found skill did not make me interested in the maneuvering of government and, quite frankly, velvet itched.  
  
Instead Bilbo and I would wander around Erebor with my nieces, Freyda always happy to help us explore some new tunnel, and it was amazing how much my brother had repaired. The only signs left of Smaug's long occupation were a few stubborn scorch marks on the treasury's high ceilings and a claw embedded deep within his throne.  
  
Dale too had been rebuilt upon the ashes of its glory and Bard was justifiably proud of all that he had done. The man gave us a tour of his city soon after our return, although not before drawing me into a bone-crushing hug. For Girion's heir was still strong despite the weight of years on his shoulders and obviously ruled his people well.  
  
Although I wasn't sure what kind of tales he had been telling because the men of Dale greeted Bilbo and I like heroes out of legend and I could have sworn that I heard at least one ballad mentioning our names. Even the revelation of our relationship didn't seem to dim his people's fervor, generations of taboo dismissed as some weird cultural thing before the bards went back to their songs.  
  
Not that I minded the reprieve from judgment, but I had to wonder why the only thing that dimmed their admiration was Bard's defeat at my hands. Apparently his skill at archery was a matter of great pride to his people, _as it should be with Smaug's death to his name,_ and when I was the victor in our competition, they did not take it well. But at least their king was a gracious loser and the men of Dale warmed back up to me eventually, once a few quiet whispers reminded them that two of Bard's lifetimes had honed my skill.  
  
Thus Bilbo and I carved a place for ourselves in Erebor and although I sometimes missed Frodo dearly, the years practically flew by. Because we had friends and family and I could have asked for nothing more than the chance to watch my brother's children thrive.  
  
\---  
  
Yet time was inescapable, a river that flowed in only one direction and my hobbit's time was running out. My Bilbo was ancient now, hair graying and muscles turning frail, and he wanted to see our son once more before he died. That was the simple truth of it though he phrased it much more gently, my husband ever watchful to the anguish of my heart.  
  
And there was an ache to know that my hobbit was slipping through my fingers but that was nothing to all the love that we had made. So I could smile reassuringly when my brother drew me aside for a private farewell and I tried to ease some of the pain in his eyes.  
  
"I've known this was coming from the beginning, Fíli. I've had time to make my peace and I do not regret the life we've had. Now help me find that wild daughter of yours so I can say a proper goodbye."  
  
But my brother still worried about us, a lifetime of habit not that easy to assuage, and he saw to it that we would travel in good company. Because Lord Elrond had called a meeting in Rivendell, all the leaders of Middle Earth summoned to discuss the growing darkness in the East, and while Bilbo and I were not part of Fíli's official delegation, there was no reason not to share the burden when we walked the same road.  
  
Besides, Glóin and Gimli were both attending the elf lord's council and I must admit that it comforted me to have their axes at my side. So it was a sizable party that left Erebor one morning, a leave-taking which could not have been more different from the first.  
  
For Bilbo and I were no longer outcasts, slipping away from the Lonely Mountain without notice or memory. Instead we were sent off like heroes, the entire kingdom lining the gates to watch us go, and mine were not the only misty eyes. It hurt to leave again knowing that I would probably not return, at least not with my heart unbroken, for I had come to love the Lonely Mountain almost as much as I loved Hobbiton. Yet the Shire would always be the true home of my spirit and my hobbit wanted to die where he was born.  
  
A wish that really should not have been so hard to grant.  
  
But somehow once our steps had led to Rivendell, the two of us never seemed to leave the elf lord's hall. First there was Frodo, tumbling upon Elrond's doorstep with a dagger toward his heart and all other desires paled next to the need to heal our son.  
  
We spent hours by his bedside as the Elrond and his healers struggled to remove the evil blade and I had never been so terrified in all my life. For while I was used to facing danger, this was different because this time it was my child who was threatened and I was helpless to do anything at all. I was helpless to do more than pray to the Valar and watch Frodo's face grow paler with each dawn.  
  
Yet the elf lord's fame was well-deserved and after three nail-biting days, our son opened his eyes again. He had grown in the long years since Bilbo and I left the Shire, maturity giving him a strength that had not been there before, but when he smiled I could still see the wide-eyed child he had been.  
  
For despite his rough introduction to the harsh dangers of the world, Frodo's innocence somehow remained untarnished. Perhaps it was due to his companions, Merry and Pippin and Sam Gamgee's cheerful presences helping to keep the dark at bay. Certainly his cousins barely seemed to realize that something evil was brewing, something that would change the fate of history just as our quest had done those years ago.  
  
 _And what will be the cost this time?_ I wondered, watching Elrond's council descend into bickering and I was sure that Bilbo's ring was to blame. Because the metal's voice had only grown stronger in the years of our separation, a whisper which wrapped around the minds of those nearby.  
  
Only the hobbits seemed relatively unaffected by its seduction, their hearts focused more on home than power, and I could not say I was surprised when Frodo volunteered to see the ring destroyed. That was our son, brave and loyal to a fault, and always one to do what was right. Even when it was foolish and dangerous and he should never have considered traveling to Nargûn.  
  
 _But if this truly is the One Ring of Sauron then there is nowhere far enough to run,_ and in truth my fear was mixed with pride.  
  
So I tried not to let the worry show as Frodo prepared for his journey, offering him what advice I could and praying that Bilbo's blade would keep him safe. His blade and the mithril armor that I had taken as my inheritance from Erebor. Though even knowing that my forefathers would be watching out for Frodo did not stop me from making secondary plans.  
  
“You are going to protect my child, aren't you Gimli?” I demanded, cornering my cousin in a hallway on the eve of their departure. “I am going to hold you personally responsible for his well-being and any wounds that he receives will come out of your hide.”  
  
I gave this same warning to each of my son's companions and I was pleased to discover that I could still threaten with the best. For while they had given their word to see Sauron's Ring destroyed, I wanted to ensure that they remembered to protect Frodo as well. He was more than the Ring-bearer, he was my one and only child, and I would not let fate claim him without a fight.  
  
But this was not my quest so there was little else for me to do once the others had all promised to guard him in my stead. The eight of them would have to do what I could not and although I was not impressed by Thranduil's snotty brat, I trusted Gimli and Gandalf to keep the elf in line.  
  
I held to this trust tightly as Bilbo and I watched our son leave Rivendell, the smile on my face barely covering the tears.  
  
\---  
\---  
\---  
  
These last months have been the longest of my life because we have had no news of Frodo since that time. No news but rumors of death and battle in the east, of armies falling before the endless orcish tide. Erebor is under siege, Rohan nearly fallen along with Gondor and Khazad-dûm is a graveyard of our friends. All is falling into darkness and there is little hope left in my heart.  
  
Even the elves of Rivendell have begun to lose their glow, that ethereal light beneath their skin turning sallow with sorrow and regret although the war has thus far passed us by. But Elrond has spent long hours poring through his library as he searches for some small advantage to pass on to our allies and his daughter's choices weigh heavy on his mind. Because Arwen has given her heart to the rightful king of Gondor and when time claims his body, it will claim the Evenstar as well.  
  
Yet while I can understand the elf lord's sorrow better now that I have a child of my own, his daughter's love is true. She made her choice with eyes wide open just as I did and her heart will not be swayed.  
  
Though this does not stop Elrond from trying, badgering Arwen with dire predictions of the future until she begs me to intervene. For the Evenstar and I have struck up an odd sort of friendship, united in our determination to follow where love leads, and I do what I can to make him see.  
  
In truth only Bilbo has somehow kept his spirits high, his faith in Frodo unbending as he puts the finishing touches on our tale. His book is nearly complete, the story of our quest laid down for the next generation, and while my hobbit has left out much of the darkness and the danger, I hope that it reminds the world to dream.  
  
This account of mine is rather more personal, started on those endless nights when sleep simply would not come. Writing it has helped to keep my fears at bay, spilling my darkest thoughts onto the paper so that they do not fester in my mind and it helps to think upon the past.  
  
There is peace in remembering the exact road which led us here and the reasons behind the choices I have made. For while there are moments which I could have handled better, I cannot regret the way my life turned out. Even with Bilbo slowly fading and our son risking death or torture in Nargûn, there is no other path that I could have taken in the end.  
  
 _Because I am Kíli, son of Dís and Jilí, husband to Bilbo Baggins and father to Frodo, and there is nothing else to say._  
  
Nothing but a prayer of thanks to Mahal for protecting my family when Rivendell finally receives the message that we won. Sauron has been defeated, his armies scattered to the winds, and there is time for joy once more. Even if my son returns to us bruised and broken, one finger missing and shadows in his eyes, at least he is alive for us to hold once more. Frodo and his cousins, who run into our arms like the children they once were, the children they will always be to me.  
  
Though our reunion is tarnished by Saruman's continuing treachery, the remnants of his Uruk-hai marching west toward home.  
  
They fall upon the Shire like starving wolves and although I am not there to see it, it breaks my heart to think of those green fields trampled red with blood. Yet I cannot leave Bilbo and he cannot travel into battle at his age, so we must wait in Rivendell while our friends and family fall under attack once more.  
  
 _I hate this. I hate waiting to be told such dire news,_ I think bitterly as I watch the road for some sign of a messenger. _I hate imagining all the ways my kin might die._  
  
Though given the word that comes from Hobbiton, some of those kin I would not miss. Because it seems that Lobelia's son is rotten through and through, siding with the invaders for the chance to put himself above and I am sure that even his mother is ashamed of what Lotho has become. Despite her general unpleasantness, Lobelia loves the Shire dearly and she would never let it be destroyed.  
  
Indeed when the final battle comes, the hobbitess is at the front of the militia as my students acquit themselves with honor and with skill. But then again, they are fighting for their homeland and even the most kindhearted hobbit is ferocious in the defense of what they love.  
  
So at last the war is over; at last there's peace once more.  
  
The rebuilding is slow at first for the earth itself has been tainted by Saruman's foul creatures and half the houses lay in smoking ruins where fine-carved wood once stood. But although this is not the homecoming that we had imagined, it is good to be needed again. The feel of wood and stone beneath my fingers is both a fond memory and a promise of potential while the chance to build something that will last for generations is a balm upon my spirit after the stress of the past months.  
  
Bilbo too finds a new passion for creation, writing down the myths and stories that were destroyed by the invaders so this knowledge won't be lost. It is good work for him now that his body is beginning to fail him, his mind still sharp despite the weakness of his bones, and somehow two years pass.  
  
But the war carved scars upon my son that will never leave him and when he comes to Bilbo and I one evening, I know what he will say.  
  
Our Frodo is leaving Middle Earth on the last ship to Valinor because there is no place on Arda for the Ring-bearer anymore. Indeed the land is changing, the ancient magic seeping from the world now that Sauron has been defeated, and I cannot be too surprised when Gandalf invites Bilbo to come as well.  
  
Though I am startled by the rush of feeling which swells within my chest when my hobbit turns to me and asks, “Kíli, what do you say? Want to see the land of the Valar where no mortal soul has tread?”  
  
 _Always together, huh, Bilbo? Always one, whatever road we walk._ Of course my husband wants to accept the wizard's offer, always drawn by the wonder of far horizons even if it means that he cannot be buried in the land of his ancestors. And of course he will not go without me just as I still cannot imagine life without Bilbo at my side. So in truth, the question is not difficult at all.  
  
I am going with him across the western ocean; I am going with my hobbit to Valinor.  
  
Though it hurts to say goodbye to my brother once again and see the pain in Freyda's eyes. My niece doesn't understand why I have to leave her, the only dwarf she knows who's dreamed of wild things. But Fíli will ruin anyone who tries to cage her spirit and in this new world of theirs, I am sure that she will meet other dreamers soon enough.  
  
"He is my heart, how could I let him go without me?” I tell Freyda, pulling my niece into my arms and burying my face in her dark hair. “You will understand one day and I am only sorry that I will not be there to see it.”  
  
This truly is my one regret, knowing that I will not be there to see my brother's children grown and I wish that I could meet the people who will steal their hearts away. Because they are sure to be extraordinary, their spirits burning like the stars of Varda in the sky, and I know our world will flourish in their hands.  
  
I give Freyda my bow then, the one I carved myself so long ago, and she accepts it with an awed look in her eyes. My niece holds the weapon carefully, promising to take care of it forever, before stepping back so I can draw my brother to my arms.  
  
Fíli is better at hiding his sorrow than his daughter but the King Under the Mountain cannot mask the tremble in his hands. They dig into my shoulders tightly as he pulls me against his chest and for a moment, I allow myself to relax in his embrace. It's like being a child again, hiding from the nightmares in my older brother's bed since I know that he will keep my fears away.  
  
However, those days are long past us and our lives can no longer intertwine as they once did. Because Fíli must return to Erebor and rule over his people while I have a far different path to tread.  
  
But perhaps this will not be the end of us no matter how it seems. Perhaps my brother and I will meet again in the halls of our Father once the last sun dawns upon the world and although it is bittersweet to ride away without him, I do not allow my tears to fall.  
  
Instead I look toward the future where my hobbits are waiting with the ship that will carry us beyond the sea.  
  
  
 _Finis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long (though at least I got it done before the next movie, because I just know that's going to blow my canon all to hell). 
> 
> While this series is actually not completed yet, the rest of the fics will be one-shots rather than these lengthy things and hopefully I'll get them out sooner rather than later. Seriously, the next time I say I want to write two long fics covering the same story from different points of view, someone tell me I'm crazy before I get this far.


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